


Insurrection

by DaysOfFuturePast



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-27 11:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 156,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8400037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaysOfFuturePast/pseuds/DaysOfFuturePast
Summary: AU. Syrio Forel dispatches Meryn Trant and the Lannister guards when they are sent to apprehend Arya upon Ned Stark's arrest. Hiding in the slums of King's Landing, the Vengeful Wolf and her mentor mount a rebellion against the Lions who have imprisoned her father.





	1. Final Water Dance Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> AN #1: This story will eventually have F/F pairings as main focuses. Will have at least one F/M.
> 
> AN #2: Currently the story will not go explicit.
> 
> AN #3: This story was inspired by a comment someone made. To paraphrase "What if Arya's Needle had been at the Water Dance lesson when Meryn Trant came upon them." it was like the blinders came off. i went straight to Youtube to watch again HBO. Then i read book fight. Egads it was worse than i feared. I know why GRRM did what he did but it makes no sense.
> 
> I have written what a true Water Dancer would have done in the situation he found himself in.
> 
> AN #4: After this event of course that leads to the what happens next. this story will be comprised of smaller arcs that take the story to major break points.
> 
> AN #5: I know why GRRM used the ages he did for the children but in this story i want to proceed and not come up with a situation that has the story move forward 5 or 6 years before the action starts. i did this to age up the characters in those stories.
> 
> Thus, Arya is 14 and Dany roughly 18 maybe 19. in today's world a nine year old would not start the journey that Arya did.
> 
> AN #6: I plan to publish this story every third week on a Saturday once I get it established.

Insurrection

Final Water Dance Lesson

 

“Again!” Syrio Forel barked at his student. Syrio watched Arya hop from foot to foot balancing quickly after each hop.  Syrio was impressed with how quickly his new student was learning her lessons.  What impressed him more was her focus.  She never wavered in doing all that he asked.

As her skills were improving she did not show the bravado and hubris that his male students always did when they began to master the most basic skills.  The most rudimentary of steps.  Not his Arya.  She hungrily learned her lessons and showed no need to show off.  She never forgot she was still a novice.

“Now let us practice with swords Arya!”

“I do not feel like fighting today.”

That was a first with his student.  Arya was always ready to fight.

“What is wrong with you today Arya Stark?”

“They killed Jory; my father is hurt.”

Syrio did not show it but he felt for the girl.  She was still only fourteen.  She should not have to deal with the hurts of the world yet.  She should be allowed to be teenager for a time yet.  Still, she was a high noble and she needed to deal with the realities of life.  The life that came with the responsibilities of the Game of Thrones as the Westerosi called it.  In Braavos it was called “Sailing the Stormy Seas.”

He would not allow her to give into her hurts.  He did not accept her answer of not wanting to train.  He thumped her hard in the chest with the practice sword he now had in his right hand.

“Good.  Trouble is the perfect time for training.  When you are dancing in the meadows with your dolls and kittens, this is not when fighting happens.”

She argued with him but she had the fire of the fighter in her belly.  Syrio knew that it would take little stoking for him to bring out the Wolf that he knew lurked in his charges breast.  He continued to taunt her and ridicule her wish to give into childish desires.

He had given Arya her training sword and continued to whack her on her right arm.  He gave his young charge credit. She controlled her savage nature longer than he thought she would. 

He smiled in his mind when the last whack of the wooden sword on his protégée arm brought the desired effect.  She charged him.  He showed no quarter and put her on the floor easily.

He reflected that with Arya he never had to worry about a fragile male ego.  He had seen students crack when their masters humbled them repeatedly.  Their ability to take hard lessons weak.  They faltered and were gone from the training field.  Never his Arya. 

She was up in flash.   They fought more with him easily blocking her strikes.  He could see she was still troubled but she focused as much as her young mind was able.  She had come further in two months than most young teenage boys had in a year.  She had that certain something that could never be put in a bottle.  He saw himself in her.  He saw a First Sword.

He put his sword to her throat after a block “You are fearing for your father.  That is right.”  He asked her of the gods she worshiped.  He told her of the only one true god “There is only one true god and his name is death.  And there is only one thing we say to death.  Not today.”

Now they practiced in earnest.  The blows coming fast and furious.  Syrio was most pleased with his student’s progress.  She had learned in only several months what all his other students took a year plus to learn.  He mused on their future together.  All Masters wanted an heir to their kingdom or their skills.  He had finally found his heir.  His shining bight star.  The perfect pupil.

He barked out his instructions “Left high.  Left Low.  Pivot right.  Cross block.  Lunge. Step right.  Right Low.  Right Low.”  His charge following his instructions to the highest degree.  She was already fast.  She was one of only a few that constantly worked on her balancing and conditioning regimen. 

He chuckled slightly.  She actually chased the cats of King’s Landing and captured them!  She had the scratches to prove it.  He had waited so long for such a student.

He knew the Westerosi had the practice of fostering their children in the ranks of the nobility.  He was not of noble birth but maybe Eddard Stark would listen to him.  What man did not want greatness from his children?  In Essos if you could prove yourself it did not matter your sex.  This man, this warden of the North, come Hand of the Realm was something more.  Syrio had become jaded in life.  Most of it because of men in positions of greatness letting him down.

Eddard Stark might be a man worth following.  He would prove it with what he had to say with the proposal that Syrio Forel was forming in his mind.

Arya was ready for the next lesson “Right!” he barked and lunged left disarming his disciple as he was beginning to think of Arya.

“You said right, you lied” Arya told him in a shocked voice.  Syrio smiled.  His charge felt betrayed.  Good.  Another lesson.

“My tongue lied.  My eyes told the truth.  You were not seeing.”  She argued with him of course.  She had the fire.  “The true seeing—that is the heart of swordplay.”

The doors burst open.  Meryn Trant came into the room with six red cloaks of the Lannisters.  He announced that he had been sent by Arya’s father.  Syrio saw the truth.  His words said one thing but his eyes said another.

Syrio had been watching the tension increase with his stay in King’s Landing.  He had seen this tableau play out to many time in Braavos in the courts of the Sea Lords.  Power was shifting.  Men were dying now.  He was sure of it.  They always did.  Arya went to follow the knight but he restrained his disciple.

He challenged the Kingsguard.  The man was arrogant and way to confident.  He was a First Sword.  Much of his duties went beyond mere swordsmanship.  One must be astute to one’s possible foes and to the situations that would pit a First Sword against them.  

He had seen the rising tension for ten days.  The Hand was contending with the force behind the throne:  Cersei Lannister.  The man was a neophyte in matters of court politics.  He was sure Eddard was about to lose and his daughter was to be a bargaining chip. 

He had upon his arrival in King’s Landing observed the Kingsguard at practice.  It was the first thing he had done when he arrived.  He had to know his potential foes.  He had overall not been impressed with six of the fighters.  Jaime Lannister was very capable fighter but he would take him down.  He was sure of it.  Barristan Selmy was another matter altogether.  He was a true master as himself.  A contest between them would be dicey.  Especially if he did not have his rapier like the situation he now found himself in.

Only one other man was his equal.  Eddard Stark.  He would not be fighting him. 

Fortunately, he would be fighting Meryn Trant.  His skills were at best slightly above mundane.  Average.

Of course the Kingsguard sent the Red Cloaks against him.  He wondered why supposed masters always sent lesser men to do their bidding.

Arya too saw the truth of the situation.  Arya armed herself but Syrio put her behind him.  The first Red Cloak looked at the Braavosi sure of himself insulting Syrio for his short height and strange garb.

The first Red Cloak advanced.  “Foreign bastard” he spit out pulling his blade out.  With one motion Syrio disarmed the Red Cloak and with the next Syrio’s heavy wood sword crashed into his helm knocking him senseless.  Syrio sighed to himself.  _Sending boys to do a man’s work_.

“Arya run to your father” Syrio told his charge.  If she could get to her father then Eddard Stark would be much freer to act.  Only after he spoke did he consider the what if of the situation.  What if her father had already been brought down by the vipers?

Meryn Trent ordered the five remaining Red Cloaks to take out Syrio.  The men were not skilled at all.  They sought to use brute force and clumsy sword strokes to take out a First Sword.  It was almost insulting.

Syrio dived and juked from side to side his heavy wooden sword slamming into helms stunning his advisories.  He struck their swords at glancing angles to block and swerve aside without cutting his wooden sword.  He had one of the Red Cloaks taken out by his own men.  He danced like water.  His body always not where the blades of the Red Cloaks slashed.

He chopped men down to the ground with blows to the knees and then incapacitated or knocked out with blows to the head. 

“Bloody oafs” Syrio groused.  All the Lannisters were down.

He turned to face Meryn Trant.  The Kingsguard pulled his sword out of its sheath with a snarl of disgust.  Syrio saw motion to his left.  Arya had not run off.  Good.  After reconsidering, this was best.  She was pleading with him to come with her.  He smiled to himself.

Now she was to see a true water dancer.

Syrio had tracked how each man fell.  He heard the third man coming too.  His moans loud.  He had fallen on his back.  His left hand scrapping the stone floor as he pushed up on his hand to rise up.  His right hand moving to try and find his sword that that had clattered a foot away from his hand.  Syrio was four feet in front of the Kingsguard. 

With little effort Syrio flexed down knees bent.  Syrio jumped up and back the four feet to land beside the still groggy Red Cloak.  He kicked out with right foot jamming the left crossguard of the Red Cloak’s sword into the man’s side.  He jammed his foot in pressing down with his toe getting his foot underneath the sword at the junction of the blade and crossguard.  The sword was lifted up off the floor on top of his foot.  He then jerked his foot up lifting the blade.  Syrio gripped the pummel of the blade with his left hand. 

He spun the wooden sword at Meryn Trant like a Chakram.  The blade spun on its axis horizontally.  The Kingsguard fell back in a defensive position and hacked the blade down. 

Syrio used the moment to pivot and he threw the sword from his left hand to his right hand and upon catching it he swept his arm down in a swift tight arc. The Red Cloak had his throat cut to his spine.  The blade shattering his spine and severing his spinal cord.  Blood spurted up in crimson gouts the man falling back dead.

Arya had stumbled back against the wall with wide eyes.  Her breathing shallow.  “Grab a sword girl!” Syrio yelled at his student.  To her credit the young fourteen year old instantly complied approaching the nearest unconscious Red Cloak and purloining his sword.

Meryn Trant snarled at Syrio.  Syrio saw another Red Cloak regaining consciousness to his right and Meryn Trent’s left.  The man was back some fifteen feet from Meryn and six feet from Syrio.  The man was up now on his hands and knees.  Syrio crouched down on his dominate leg compressing his body and then jumped up high in the air.  He had his sword pulled back with his right hand behind his ear.  He thrust down as his body descended.

His sword found the joint between the fallen Lannister’s Cuirass, Faulds and his Culet that protected his lower back.  His blade slammed in and through the joint in the armor.  The blade penetrating his kidney, lung and out his ribs the tip of the sword jamming out the front of the man’s armor an inch.

The Red Cloak screamed hideously the cry scaling up with Syrio wrenching the blade to pull it back out his body.  The man lay on the floor moaning piteously.  His lung filling with blood.

Syrio pivoted towards Meryn Trent.  A smile grimly on his face.

“Now we can properly dance my partner in the dance macabre.  The broadsword is a blunt instrument to be sure.  Have I told you my good Kingsguard that a First Sword trains in all swords?  We start out as Circle of Blades, then one becomes a Commodore, then Second Swords.  Those are twenty.  All vying to be worthy to challenge for the First Sword.  We must master all blades to be able to know how to defeat any opponent using said blade.”

“Keep pissing you fucking Braavosi.  I will gut you like the dog you are.  You rapiers are blades for fags.  You insult me even breathing the same air as a true knight of the realm.”

Syrio moved forward with small steps.  He slide forward on his feet pivoting to keep Meryn in front of himself as the knight circled Syrio.

Suddenly, the knight roared and charged Syrio.  His sword raised and slamming down with crushing force.  Syrio met his sword stroke and easily stopped the stroke and pushed Meryn Trant back and away.  Syrio saw the shock on the man’s face.  He was surprised that Syrio’s much smaller body was his equal in strength.

Syrio knew the knight’s thoughts.  _Their strength was not equal.  His strength far exceeded the clumsy knight’s_!

Syrio did not see fear in the man’s face but he saw caution now.  Meryn Trant attacked with vicious swipes of his sword with long arching swings that showed clearly his intent.  Syrio easily deflected the man’s blows.  He would throw out strikes enough to keep Meryn off balance Syrio was letting the man waste energy.  He jumped around keeping Meryn off balance.  He landed a solid shot on the seam of the back and front Cuirass with a hard crack of his sword.

Meryn grunted at the hard blow.  The armor did its job.  The knight sidestepped and back.  Then Meryn charged Syrio.  Syrio pivoted and tripped the man.  His sword slammed into his back and then his helm.  Meryn stumbled forward and he made a windmill swiping motion with his sword that only found air with Syrio ducking underneath the arc and rolled forward his sword slashing over the man’s calve.  The knight nearly toppled to the floor.

The knight cried out in pain.  Syrio rolled to his feet and attacked again.  Meryn barely blocked his attack.  Syrio then locked up their swords.  He moved in close pushing their crossed locked swords up.  He gripped the man’s arm with his left arm.  Meryn gripped his arm.  They grunted and snarled as they pushed and pulled against each other. 

“I’m going to kill you Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard.  My sword will pierce your eye and squire your brain.  It is written in the stars” Syrio told Meryn in a level voice.  He had added the last just to get to the man.

Meryn barked a chuffed laugh.  He grunted hard and surged forward.  Syrio turned to the side and with his grip on Meryn’s arm made the man stumble forward.  Syrio followed the man and slammed his sword down across the man’s back.  Meryn’s armor clanged loudly and the man cried out in pain at the vicious impact on his back.

Meryn turned and straightened his back grimacing.  The two started circling again with their swords held in front of them.  Syrio attacked with his sword feinting and then slashing forward.  He moved at the full speed of his prowess.  His sword becoming a blur.  He saw Meryn’s eyes flare wide open.  He was now grimacing and Syrio smirked seeing fear for the first time in Meryen’s eyes.  His sword slashed down on Meryn’s sword and then again down.  Syrio repeated the blows on Meryen’s sword making the man brace himself.  He then moved to his left and then pivoted back in a blur of motion.  He slashed hard at Meryn’s hip and thigh. 

Meryn moved his sword down to block at a forty-five degree angle.  Syrio hit the sword on the side moving it to Meryn’s center plane.  Syrio lifted his sword and slashed his sword down.  Meryn cried out in pain with the blade of Syrio’s sword landing in the elbow joint of his brassart and gauntlet on his right arm.  The blade did not fully penetrate the metal.  The metal blunted the strike and his forearm guards of leather and metal splints kept the blade from cutting into the elbow joint.  The shock of the blow though bruised severally the joint and bone.

Meryn fell back shaking his arm.  Syrio was still fully scoping out Meryn’s ability.  His assessment had been correct.  He knew he needed to finish the fight quickly but a First Sword never took his foes for granted once blades had been crossed.

He moved in now his sword a blur.  If he had his rapier he would have finished the fight already.  With a broadsword he had to be more cautious.  He slashed first high, low and then back to high again.  Meryn was sweating heavily now.  Syrio locked swords again and now kicked forward with his foot hitting Meryn’s planted leg used to hold Syrio off him.  The blow hit the knee straight on and the joint snapped back stretching tendons and ligaments. 

“Aaarruuunngggg!” Meryn cried out in pain. He stumbled back and then charged forward his sword slashing wildly at Syrio.  Syrio stepped to the left and now hit the Kingsguard knight on his elbow but it was only a glancing blow with Meryn on guard for another such attack.  Still the blade slashed over the damaged joint further harming it.

Meryn roared slashing furiously.  Syrio heard another Red Cloak starting to revive.  Syrio never lost his mental map of the fallen Red Cloaks.  One never lost track of potential foes.  Two were dead or mortally wounded.  He heard the man levering himself up onto his feet.  He could tell the man was still groggy with his uncertain steps that first went right and then left.

He saw Meryn’s eyes take in the rising man behind him.  He slammed into Meryn and made the man stumble back.  He slashed his sword hard and down with lightning fast strokes making the knight stumble over an unconscious Red Cloak.

Syrio was about to turn and dispatch the Red Cloak who was raising his sword.  Syrio had seen the man out of the corner of his eye.  The man was still stunned but he was shaking his head to clear the cobwebs.  He would be ready to strike in a moment.

“AAAAAIIIIEEEEEEEE!”

Syrio did a spin to the right.  As he spun away from Meryn Trant he saw the man’s eyes bulge out shocked.  A look of disbelief on his face.

Syrio finished his pivot and smiled at what he saw.  The Red Cloak head was thrown back a loud scream issuing from his throat.  They did not wear pure plate armor but leather armor with metal plates sowed into the fabric.  These men were not armed or trained to fight knights.  They were to keep the peace in the Lannister household. 

The man had a broadsword jutting out his chest.  He had had a sword rammed through his back armor clear through his body and out his stomach just below his sternum.  The blade bright red with his blood.  The man looked down dropping his sword.  Arya had been against the wall and ran forward with her sword thrust out in front of her.  The blade hitting the Red Cloak with all her weight and momentum.  Her grip on the hilt strong and sure.  The blade held steady had had enough energy to deliver a killing stroke.  The blade was ripped back.

The man toppled onto his knees and fell to his hands.  Blood was pouring out his mouth as he gasped for breath.  Arya was behind the man and she lifted her blade high and sliced down.  Her aim was true.  Her blade cut into the man’s neck just below the helm that had tilted forward with this movements.  The blade severed the man’s spin and he collapsed down boneless.  He was dead before his body hit the floor.

Syrio had kept Meryn in his vision.  It was time to end this now.  He spun around.

“You are a snake Meryn Trant.  House Lannister is full of vipers.  Your death will be the first blow to that vile House.”

“I will kill you.  You are scum!  I am a Knight of the Kingsguard.”  He roared and charged forward.  Syrio saw that his right arm was being held lower.  Syrio blocked the blows.  The blows were definitely slower and weaker.  Syrio blocked them and counterattacked.  The knight blocked his slashes but just barely.  Syrio pushed Meryn back.  He made thrusts that Meryn slashed aside.  Syrio pressed his attack.

Syrio hit Meryn in his right arm again and then his shoulder and then his elbow again.  Meryn staggered back groaning in pain.  His right arm was hanging down now. 

It was time to finish it.  Syrio took the classic water dancer poise now and held his broadsword up high in front of him his other arm bent up and his hand high.  He feinted a piercing thrust to this heart.  Meryn instinctively went to block with his tired sword arm.  Blood was dripping out of his elbow joint now. 

Syrio lifted his blade and his broadsword point flew forward.  The blade entering Meryn’s left eye and slamming into his brain the blade sliding through the organ till the blade bashed into the inside of the back of helm of Meryn Trant.  The Knight’s body jerked wildly in a death dance.

Syrio held his sword steady letting the knight perform his death dance macabre.  Meryn dropped his sword.  His arms went limp even though his body was still jerking and his legs kicking like a rolling dog.  Syrio held the body up for another fifteen seconds till the death dance was finished.  Only then did Syrio angle his blade to let the body drop lifeless to the floor.

“Garbage.”  Syrio had killed many such scum in Braavos.  No matter where he went there were such rats.

He moved to the closest still living Red Cloak.  He sliced the man’s throat wide open.  The blood spurting in the air and a pool of crimson spreading around his neck.  He moved to the second unconscious red cloak.  He was lying on his stomach.  The Water Dancer kneeled down.  Syrio rammed his sword up from through the man’s lower back up into his heart and lungs.  The man sighed and died.

“Why are you killing them?” Arya asked.

“There can be no witness Arya.  Your father is being overthrown as we speak.  We must disappear without witness.”  He moved over to the last still living Red Cloak.

He flipped off the last man’s helm.  He put the helm under his upper back.  His sword whipped down.  His head cut in two from his left temple through to this nose and the blade lodging in upper jaw.  The man’s body convulsed once and lay still.  Syrio kicked the helm from underneath the man. The metal clanging and spinning away to the back wall.

Syrio saw the confusion in Arya’s eyes.  “I am making it look like a melee happened here.  I want to put confusion in their minds when they come here.  Was it just me?  Did I have accomplishes?  Will they even be sure what happened here?  We will need this confusion to make our escape.

“Escape?” Arya asked softly.

“Yes.  Your father is being disposed as we speak.  He is either dead or at best taken prisoner.  You were to be taken as a hostage and to then become a bargaining chip.  Probably to be married off.”

“And that is it?”

“Yes that is it.  We need to escape and leave King’s Landing.”

“No.  I am staying.  I will save my father.

“I did not save you to have you go out and get yourself killed!  If you go out there you will be killed long before you even begin to find your father.  You are still untrained girl.  Come with me to Braavos and let me train you and then you can come back and take vengeance.”

“No.  If my father is alive then I am going to his aid.”

“You will die!”

“Then I will die.”  Arya started to head to the doorway.

“Noooooo!” Syrio shouted blocking the doorway.  It had been five minutes since the Kingsguard knight and Red Cloaks had come into the room.  The confusion of the coup would last for a little way.  Now was the time to make their escape.

He looked hard into Arya’s eyes.  He saw no fear. Only grim determination to go her father’s aid or die in the effort.

Syrio held her gaze.

“Stand aside Syrio.”

Syrio did not move.  He had served two Sea Lords.  He had served other high lords.  None had a tenth of this girls honor and iron will.

“No Arya.  We will get your father.  Together.  But we need a plan.  I have an idea.”

 

 


	2. Flight

Insurrection

Flight

 

Arya waited for her Master's plan.  There was only silence.  “What’s the plan master?” Arya asked Syrio.  She was not filled with confidence seeing Syrio still thinking.  _What was his plan_?  “Well?”

Syrio suddenly sprang into motion.  He moved among the dead Red Cloaks.  He rolled their bodies looking at the slain men.  On the fourth body he stopped.  Arya watched him curious.  Syrio started to remove the man’s armor and clothes.

“What are you doing?”

“Use your eyes Arya.  Think with your mind.”

Arya watched her teacher for a few moments and then understood.

“You are going to disguise yourself as a Red Cloak … and … pretend I am prisoner?” Arya inflected the last part of her statement into a question.

“Yes Arya.”  He put on the pants and blouse of the Red Cloak over his clothes.  He pulled of his helm and jammed it down on his head.  He did look like one of the Lannisters.

“Why didn’t you take off your clothes?  Isn’t that uncomfortable and limit your motion?”

“Arya … I repeat—think!  If I leave any of my clothes behind they will reason out what happened.  Come here girl.”  He put the scabbard on the floor.

“Help me move the body down to back of the closet in the back of the room”.  Arya helped her master move the limp body to the closet and threw the body into the back of the small space and moved the small boxes and rolled up blankets over the body.  “It will be some time before they discover the body.  We will be long gone.”

They went back to the melee area.   Arya following behind the Water Dancer.  He had put on the dead Red Cloak’s scabbard now.  Syrio grabbed Arya and spun her around so her back was to him.

“I am going to cut you hair off (Arya started to protest) we must change your appearance Arya.  Don’t take this as an insult but you are not exactly well endowed in the breast department Arya.  You will be able to pass as a young boy.  They will be looking for a girl and in their haste will see a boy.”

Arya had started to protest.  She had always been ashamed of her lack of bosom.  Sansa had it all!  Beautiful face, tall, red hair and awesome tits!  It wasn’t fair.  She loved her hair!  Arya ground her teeth.  She knew she had beautiful eyes like her father and Jon but her hair was her best attribute when she pulled it back with combs and her slightly wavy hair framed her face.

She sighed.  She had no choice.  It would grow back.

Arya felt her head pulled back as Syrio sawed his sword back and forth across her hair cutting it off.  She looked down to mourn her sheared locks.  _Where were they_?

“Where is my hair Syrio?”

“In my hand.  We need to put it in your crotch.”

“ _What_!” Arya screeched. 

“No evidence Arya.  Can’t have them know you have shorn locks.  Forgive my impertinence but we most move in haste.”  Arya felt her trousers pulled out in the back and Sryio’s hand was shoved down her pants and quickly removed.  She wiggled feeling the strange sensations in her crotch.  “Adjust the hair Arya.  Make it to you can walk normally.

Arya jumped and down to move the hair around to spread out the hair in her trousers.  She moved and walked around.  Not good enough!  She felt embarrassed reaching into her trousers and moving her hand around getting the hair in place where it was not driving her crazy.  _Boy this was a strange feeling_!  Okay she was ready.  _It was weird for sure walking around with your hair in your crotch and not on your head_!

Her hands went up to her hair and felt the short locks.  She sighed.  It felt uneven but many boys had that style of cut.  She would definitely blend in.  She never thought her flat chest would be an advantage.

Syrio had come up to her with a ripped shirt of a Red Cloak.  It was blood soaked.  He started to wrap it around her head.  She started to question her master but stopped when she thought it through.  He was further disguising her.

It had been ten minutes since Meryn Trant had come into the room.  They were ready to leave.

“What now Syrio?  Where do we go?”

Syrio looked at her “My rapier is two doors down where I left it for after your training.  Then we have to find a way out of here.”

“I told you we are going to save your father!”

“I know girl.  But listen to me.  We are two.  Only two!  You have only started your training.  We are not going to be able to fight our way to your father and get out.” Arya started to argue.  “LISTEN TO ME!” Syrio screamed at his disciple.  Arya shut up.

“We will not help your father dead.  I will be honest with you Arya.  I seriously doubt we will succeed in our endeavor.  We _must_ first escape.  Then we can somehow figure out how to get back in.  We have confusion to our advantage but it won’t last for long.”  Arya saw her master hesitate.  His eyes locked with hers.  He was gauging her ability to hear the truth.  She returned his gaze and squared her shoulders.

“Arya, I will always be honest with you.  Your father may be dead.”  Arya started to argue.  Her master’s eyes flared and she shut up.  He finished wrapping her head with the blooded blouse so it looked like a bandage.  Her hair, forehead and half of her right eye covered with the blood soaked cloth.  It was creepy but Arya quickly squelched her squeamishness.  If she was to be a water dancer she had to be like one.  Starting now.

“I said maybe Arya.  It is possible.  Fortunately, he is severely injured.  That, in this circumstance is a good thing.  He will not be fighting his assailants.  He will be taken hostage by the Lannisters.  He is the Lord of a Major House.  I can see one of two things happening.  One:  he will be forced to take the black and go to the Wall.  Two:  he will be executed.  I have watched this Joffrey.  I am sure the mother will take the proper political path.  That boy though … he is unbalanced.  I don’t know.”

Arya looked at Syrio with her eyes pleading for him to reassure her.

“We have time though.  We just have to survive today and stay free.  Let’s go get my rapier.”

“Why do you need it master?  You don’t need it.”

They quickly started down the hall.  “I may have mastery of all blades but I am the supreme master of the rapier.  I need every advantage I can get.  They turned into the store room and Syrio put on his rapier with its belt tied to his waist. He mostly hid it with the broadsword.

“We will go my quarters and get Needle” Arya told her master.

“What!  Hell no girl!  We need to escape.”

“You got your weapon.  I will get MY weapon.  It is only fair.”

Her master glared at her.  He looked down at his hip and his rapier.  He groaned and shook his head ‘yes’.  A water dancer must have their weapon.  Even if the Water Dancer was in training.

They entered one of the main halls and started walking down it.  “Walk wounded.”

“How do I do that?”

“ _I don’t know_!  Just do it” Syrio snarled back in a harsh whisper. 

Arya started to lean to one side and made her step limp lightly.  “Good.” Syrio told her.  She felt good hearing Syrio’s praise.

A group of Red Cloaks went running by.  The came to a corner and saw three northern men dead.  There were eight dead Lannisters.

Arya smiled grimly.  The scum were inferior to the North!  If they were not attacking with surprise her father’s men would slaughter the bastards!

They went on.  They heard fighting down a side corridor.  Arya instinctively started down that hall.  Syrio grabbed her arm and shook his head no.

“Those are my people!” she snarled under her breath.

“If we go down that hall we die.  Period.  Let’s go to your room.”   They moved on down the hall.  They saw three Red Cloaks coming down the Hall at a fast walk.  One looked like a captain.”

They passed them.

“Stop soldier.”

Syrio stopped and half turned himself and Arya around with his grip on her arm.

“The collection area for prisoners is down behind you and take the second hall on your left.”

“The Queen said she wanted this one taken to her quarters for special questioning.”

Arya saw the captain’s eyes open wide.  He went for his weapon.  His two fellow Lannisters were shocked at the sudden change.

Arya never even saw her master move.  His rapier slashed across the captain’s throat as his hand was still moving to grip the pummel of his sword.  Hot blood started to pulse out his severed arteries.  His severed windpipe wheezed on swallowed blood.  The closest Lannister guard had his heart pierced with a straight thrust by Syrio.  The man looked down with a vacant look.  Syrio whipped his rapier back and slashed his blade across the third man’s face from his temple across his nose and down his other cheek and cut down to the man’s chin.

The man started to scream as his face was cut wide open.  His scream was choked off when Syrio’s rapier pierced his tongue and pined it to the back of his throat the rapier going out his neck severing his spine.  Syrio jerked his hand back and the man fell straight down like a stone.  He was dead.  Syrio pulled out his broadsword and savagely chopped the three dead mean disfiguring their bodies.  Arya now knew it was to camouflage the work of his rapier.

It had taken Syrio a little more than five seconds to kill three men.  Arya was wide eyed. She had thought she was good.  She was nothing to her master’s skills!  Syrio put the rapier away on his hip.

They approached her room.  Two Red Cloaks were on either side of the door.  Syrio walked by them and swirled around unsheathing his broadsword and lashed out. The man’s head went spinning down the hall.  Blood geyser out the bloody stump of his torso.  The body falling over gushing out blood.  The other man was just starting to pull his sword when Syrio was on him and disemboweled the man with a slash across his stomach with savage force. The blade cutting through the thin metal of the ceremonial armor and leather vest underneath.  Syrio brought up his broadsword and this man’s head went rolling onto the floor and bumped up against the wall.  The man’s eyes wide open.  A pool of red ichor and gore spilled out from the corpse’s mutilated body.

“Get in the room and retrieve your sword Arya!  Move!”  She entered the room.  She looked back and saw Syrio taking a stance like he was guarding the door.  “Mmoovveeeee!” Syrio hissed at her.  She ran to the back of her room and picked up needle.  She gripped it with her left hand.  She swished it back and forth and took a few practice lunges.  She bent down and picked up Needle's scabbard. 

She shook her head.  She had assumed she was beginning to come near Syrio’s skills.  She grimaced at her audacity and stupidity.  She had only seen a fraction of what her Water Dancer Master was truly capable of.  He was a killing whirling devil without the tail or horns.  His swords were death incarnate.  She spied her bow and quivers in the right corner of her room.  She ran over and picked them up. 

She then looked across to her dresser.  She saw her combs and hair brush.  She saw her hair clips lying unorganized on the dresser.  She looked over to her bed and the night dress and small clothes she had worn last night.  Her vision moved over to the closet with the half open doors.  She saw the dresses she would not be caught dead in.  She put on her scabbard as she looked at the items buckling the belt around her waist.

That thought made her pause.  The enormity situation hit the Stark Princess.  Men were dying all around her.  She had killed one herself.  She fully realized she would not hesitate to kill again.  She would be leaving here.  She may die shortly.  She may never see any of this again. These things in this room had seemed a nuisance and trivial.  Now they almost seemed precious. 

“Oohhhhh!” Syrio fell to his knees his sword falling to the floor in front of his half collapsed body.  He was moaning.

Arya cried out seeing a swarm of Lannister men come into view of her open door frame.

As she watched two men saw her in the room.  Their eyes flared with recognition of who she must be. 

“Are you alright man!” a Lannister man was trying to Syrio up to his feet.  Another man was looking at Syrio wanting to help a fellow man in arms.  The two men who had seen Arya started to enter the room.

“Arrrgghhhh!” Syrio roared gripping his sword with this left hand and slamming it up.  The sword slammed into the Lannister’s body easily piercing the armor and sliding up into the man’s torso till the crossguards slammed into his ribs.  Syrio released the sword the man sagging back screaming.  The Lannister gripped the sword and tried to pull it back out of his body as blood poured out the wound and down the crossguards and pommel.  The man still screaming like a banshee.

Syrio surged up and gripped the man holding his armpit and stepped back.  With his now free left hand the Water Dancer gripped the side of the helm of the close by Lannister man.  His right hand now held a long dagger in it.  Syrio slashed it across the man’s throat.  The man tried to scream but choked on the blood gushing out his severed arteries and down his windpipe.  The man held his hands to his throat trying to stop his life’s blood gushing out his dying body.  In a blur Syrio whipped out his rapier and danced to the left as a Lannister Red Cloak slashed down on empty air.

The two men who had entered the room to accost Arya and swirled around pulling out their swords hearing the sounds of combat behind them.  They started back out the door.  Syrio was knocking aside the powerful hacks from the Lannister man.  The man stumbling as the Water Dancer used the man’s momentum against him. 

The two men were advancing back out to attack Syrio while he was engaged with the man in front of him.  Arya did not hesitate.  She dropped her bow and quiver in her left hand.  She gripped the hilt of Needle with both hands and silently ran forward.  Jon’s words came to Arya’s mind “Stick them with the pointy end.”  Her sword pierced the back of the closest Red Cloak. Needle’s sharp razor point penetrating the man’s body.  Arya’s body slammed into the man’s back as he screamed in agony.  Needle jutting out the front of his body.

The man screamed again twisting his body as he pulled forward off Needle.  He staggered and turned around to face his tormentor.  Beyond him Arya saw Syrio sidestep a down hack from his foe.  He jumped back and lunged forward his sword penetrating the man’s throat from the side.  The rapier coming out the opposite side of the man’s throat.

The second man that had come into Arya’s room advanced on Syrio’s back.  The Water Dancer kicked out with his right foot hitting that man in the stomach. The breath whooshed out of his lungs the man folding over.

Arya snarled at the Lannister man confronting her.  Blood was staining the front of his armor. He raised his sword to strike at Arya. The man Syrio had just kicked staggered back into the man in front of Arya throwing him off balance.  Behind him Arya could see Syrio pull his rapier out of the man’s throat and reached out with his left hand and gripped the man by his shoulder and slammed him down to his knees.  Sryio lifted his right hand and his rapier came down viciously.  The point of the rapier finding the joint between the man’s chest and shoulder armor.  The blade sinking into the man’s body.

The blade pierced the upper lobe of the man’s right lung, went through his stomach and pierced his other lung in the lower quadrant.  The man shrieked in agony.  The other Lannister Syrio had kicked was straightening up.  The man gasping getting his breath back his teeth gritted.

Arya charged the Lannister who had regained his balance.  Needle pierced his body again this time from the front.  Her blade sliding into his body till her hands slammed into his body.  The man looked down at Arya’s hands that had blood leaking onto them from his body.  The man roared in rage lifting his sword.  Arya backed up just in time.  Needle slipping out of the man’s body as Arya retreated.

The man’s blade slammed into the floor.  The men went to lift his blade but his strength failed him.  He grunted and focused. He ripped his arms up his blade rising high up in the air.  He was slightly off balance.  Arya had flexed her knees as Syrio had taught her jumping herself to the man’s side on his weak hand.  Arya screamed a blood curdling scream of rage.  She lunged forward her Needle finding the space between the man’s seventh and right rib.  Her blade slicing clean through the man from the side.  Again her hands slammed into the man. 

This there was no scream of pain or rage from the man this time.  He sagged down to his knees.  Blood was dribbling from his mouth.  Arya kicked him in his mouth.  Teeth shattered as the man’s body fell back.  The man’s breath rattled in lungs filling with blood.

She looked out in the hall.  Syrio was fighting the last Red Cloak.  He meet powerful sword hacks and shunted the blade to the side.  The Red Cloak missed and faster than Arya could follow Syrio stuck out with a half circling swipe of his rapier.  The Red Cloak staggered dropping his sword gripping his throat with both hands.  Blood instantly soaking his hands and pouring down onto his gauntlets.  Syrio kicked the man his ribs folding him over and then kicked in the ribs again sending the man sprawling to the floor to die.

Arya came running out of her room with her needle and bow and quiver.  Syrio saw her bow and arrows.  She knew he was going to tell her to leave them.  He considered a moment.

“Time is running out Arya.”

“What do we do?”

“We keep fighting.  We must get to a window or to a door on the first floor.  We must keep fleeing.”

Arya nodded her head in agreement.

“Arya listen to me.  If I fall you surrender.”  Arya just looked at Syrio.

“ARYA LISTEN TO ME! If I go down surrender.  You will accomplish nothing dead!”

“If I am captured I will not be able to help my father.  I will be a weapon against him.  I will die a Stark!  I will die fighting!”

Syrio looked at her for a few moments.  Then a feral smile appeared on his lips. 

“String your bow Stark."  She did.  She put needle in its scabbard.  "Shot to kill!  We will go down fighting.  Let’s go!”

“NO!  Syrio, I know another way.”

Her master looked down both ways down the hall.  They were still alone.

“Quickly!”

As they started down the hall  Arya put her quiver around her body.  “There are secret passages in the Red Keep. I accidentally found an entrance.  We must get to the ground floor but away from the main entrances to the Keep.”

“Can you find it?!”

“I have too!”

Syrio took a deep breath.  He smiled down at his student.  “You lead.  The time for stealth is over.  Let our striving be written about in song and legend!”

Arya felt her chest swell as she strung her bow up. 

“Anyone who is not of the North dies Arya.  You understand.  Shot to kill.  Can you do it?!”

“They have killed my people.  I will kill without mercy!”

Syrio again smiled at her with a feral snarl.  Arya started off.  Syrio reached out and gripped her shoulder.  She snarled at him.

“Let’s go!”

“One thing Arya!  If we survive I want to take you as my true student.  I want you to become my disciple.  You are already a Water Dancer.  I just have to teach you.  Will you.”

“Not if we survive Syrio.  When we survive!  I will become your disciple.  Let’s go!”

They started off down the hall. They found a small servant hallway and went down two stories. They went down a hall.  They heard voices shouting in confusion.  They went up to a corner and Syrio looked around the corner.  The intersection was large.  Syrio looked at Arya.  “Five Red Cloaks” he whispered “fifteen yards.”

Arya nodded notching her bow.  She stepped out into hall and let loose.  A Red Cloak who had taken off his helm to sop his brow fell straight down an arrow jutting out his temple.  The Red Cloaks were stunned looking around confused.  A second Red Cloak started to scream but it was cut off with an arrow jutting out his Adam ’s apple.  He collapsed spitting out big mouthfuls of blood.  Arya falling back notched a third arrow.  She let loose.  The arrow went in between the wings of the man’s helm the arrow penetrating his left eye. He flew to the floor in a heap.

His sprawled body tripped the next two men.  Syrio came around the corner and threw the broadsword he had snatched up from the last melee.  The sword impaled the man through his upper chest.  The body flew back off his feet.  The last Red Cloak looked around with his eyes large in terror.  He was confused. 

An arrow slammed into his guts near his groin.  He folded over.  His whimpers of pain and then a scream of agony.  Syrio ran up to him his rapier slashed across his exposed spinal cord.  The body collapsed boneless.  The man was dead before his face even hit the stones.

They ran on and down another hall.  Arya looked around.  “Left!”  Syrio looked at her and smirked.  She had no idea where to go.  It did not matter.  They were laying waste to their enemies!  He had finally found his disciple.  He prayed only that they lived long enough for him to teach her.  The girl was all wolf!  What he could do with such a student!

They ran from room to room and down halls.  Here the Red Cloaks were not present.  They had other tasks and were obviously concentrating their efforts in the royal quarters.

Arya was opening doors.  “Yes!” She was looking in a cellar door.  She led Syrio into the cellar.  They walked into the cellar and moved past stacks of crates and large casks of wine and liquor.  It was like a labyrinth.  Finally, they made it to the back wall.  Arya looked around she spied an old crate.  She moved it as she gritted her teeth.  A small opening appeared.  She crawled through.  Syrio followed.  They stood up.  Syrio looked right and left.

He pulled a torch from a scion and the flint underneath it.  Arya looked on shocked.  She had not noticed that in her journey through this passage.  Syrio saw the look on her face.

“In the Sealord’s palace it too is filled with secret passages.  I did not ask you of them not knowing you would know of any entrances.  I knew to look. You did not.”

Arya felt her self ire settle.  Syrio lit the torch and handed it to Arya.  She took it.  He bent back to his knees and leaned out the entrance and reached out and gripped the back of the crates.  Arya noticed now holding the torch down that the crate had handles built into it.  Syrio used them to pull the crate back into place fully blocking the entrance.

He stood up. “Where to?”

Arya looked around.  “I don’t know.  Down.  We need to get away from the Red Cloaks.”

Syrio smiled at her again.  “The correct choice Arya.  You exceed your years.  We need to get away from the Keep indeed.  I see some footprints but they are old.  One set is yours from the pattern of the steps.”

They took off down the corridor. They came to intersection that Arya had missed when she went down this corridor in the total darkness.  She looked right and left.  The air felt more dead to the right.  They choose that path.  The moved on down that corridor.

They kept moving on slowly.  Syrio had his rapier out and Arya had her bow in hand in a relaxed pose.  They should be safe.  Anyone coming their way would be seen coming. They moved as silent as a mouse.  They heard and saw no one.

The moved on the air dark and dank.  Syrio holding the torch up high as they walked.  They had been sweating profusely unremarked.  Now Arya felt it shivering.  She saw Syrio was unaffected.  She knew it was his training that allowed him to suppress his body feeling the chill in the air.

They came out into a large abandon room.  Syrio called a halt.  Syrio told her to rest.  First she reached into her trousers and removed the cut hair that had been devilish in her crotch.  Relief!  They sat down and put their back to wall so they could see both entryways to the room.  They rested in silence.  They had nothing to say and they wanted their ears attuned to any sound.  The torch flickering sounded like a thunderstorm to Arya.

After some minutes unremarked they got up and went out the other entryway and kept on walking.  They generally were heading down.  After maybe fifteen minutes Syrio touched Arya’s shoulder.  She had felt it too. The air was getting moist.  They were approaching water.  Arya doubted it was sea.  It must be an underground river.  Maybe they could follow it out to the sea.

They moved down the path.  The tunnel now sloping down at a noticeable angle.  The smell of water was heavy now.

“Mercy! Mercy!  Have Mercy!”

“Shut up scum!”

Syrio and Arya saw light around a bend in the corridor.  They both approached the bend.  Arya got on her knees.  They glanced around the corner.

They saw three men chained together on their knees.  They were near the edge of a pier.  They could see a man who appeared to be the leader with a big ring of keys on his hips.  He had four guards around him. 

“Prepare to become minnow bait scum.”

“Have mercy!” a well-built man called up to the leader.  Arya supposed he was the master jailer by the ring of keys.

“You are murders and scum!”

“No we are innocent.  Have mercy!  I beg you!  Mercy!”

“Lies!  And if you are not guilty of his crime I am sure you will go to hell for others” the man sneered at the three men.

The man looked up at them with his hair matted and unkempt.  She noticed it had grey in it.  He did not look old enough to have grey hair.  She looked at Syrio who was studying the jailor and guards.

“We are all innocent.  Have mercy! I beg you to have mercy!”

Now all five men standing over them laughed.

The men to the left of the talker were sullen with the taller thinner man weeping softly.  The other larger man who was bald and seemed to have a mouth full of rotted teeth held up his hands flipping off the jailer.  

Syrio and Arya pulled back.

“We will wait till after the prisoners are killed and then we will go the wharf and either follow the jailers or take the skiff I saw at the end of the wharf.”  Arya cursed herself missing the skiff.

“No Syrio.  We are going to save those poor souls.  I will not allow them to be drowned like common rats!”  She glared up at her sword master.  “They may be innocent!” she whispered harshly at her master.

“Most probably not damnit!”

Arya locked eyes with her master.

He glared down at her.  He then shrugged his shoulders. 

“Shit.  The way this day has gone—why not."


	3. Angel of Mercy

Insurrection

Angel of Mercy

 

Arya notched her bow.

“No.”

Arya cocked an eyebrow at her master wanting an explanation.

“If you shoot you arrows from here you will not be able to kill them before they push the prisoners into the river.  We need to get in up on them and try and put them in confusion.”  Her master sighed and then smirked.  “We need for you to once more walk into the fire.  You are holding up like a water dancer!” Syrio whispered fiercely to her.

Arya rolled her eyes.  She did not like it when her master exaggerated.

Arya nodded as he told her what he thought they should do.  Arya agreed.  If not for trying to save the prisoners it would be reversed.  She could not complain.  He was putting her wishes in order.

She handed her bow and quiver to Syrio.  He shouldered the quiver and pulled out an arrow and notched it on the bow string.  He used the first two fingers and thumb on the string to grip the arrow.

“How good are you?” she asked her master.

“I am not your good Arya but I was pretty good as a youth.  Let’s hope I have not forgotten how to shoot.  We will see.”

With that Arya stuck her head around the corner.  She took a deep breath.  It was her idea to save the men.  She willed her knees to stop shaking.  She had been operating on pure instinct.  Now she was deliberating walking into danger. 

The prisoner who was doing the talking was still begging for mercy.  He looked up at the obvious jailer his head moving to take in the guards.  The guards had short swords on their hips.  Arya noticed one of the guards had a bullwhip on his other hip.  One man was obviously the one who was going to push the men into the river.  The guard was the third man in from the edge.  He seemed almost anxious to pass the death sentence.

The man begging for mercy pleaded again looking up at his executioners.  “Mercy!  We are to be put before the magistrate.  Mercy!”

“Fuck you scum!” The jailer snarled.  “With all the confusion no one will miss you.  Someone up there is cutting the Queen’s forces up.  We need to get rid of scum like you.  We will be doing the realm a great service killing scum like you.”

“Mercy. Mercy. Mercy!” the prisoner pleaded in a sobbing voice.  His bound hands up and fingers spread in supplication.

Arya went around the corner and down the three steps cut into the stone that led to the wharf.   She staggered down to the wharf.  She put one hand on the wall gasping and lurched down the stone dock.  She had to go sixty feet.

“Help me! I’ve been attacked.”  Arya paused and then lurched forward again.  She had her left hand down by her leg her hand angled back to hide the long dagger that Syrio had given her.  She had positioned Needle on her back in its scabbard.  In the half-dark the men would not see it.  She needed to appear harmless.  She needed to get to that third man.  She had pushed up the head wrap in their flight but had pulled it back down to half cover her eye.  She saw the men eyeing her.  She limped severely and moaned softly in distress.

Her bloodied state and small size did not have the men on edge.

“They were after me but I lost them.  I am lost.  Help me.  The Queen is looking for me.  I am a valuable member of her entourage.”  That caught the men’s attention and allowed her to continue to advance.  She had almost made it to them.  “I am so weak!  Help me!”

The men were looking at her; the closest man moving towards her.  She heard an arrow whistling down from Syrio’s hidden spot.  The man closest to her jerked back his body spinning an arrow hitting his hip.  The other four men looked up to the area where the arrow had appeared from.  The look of shock on their faces told Arya they had no idea that the tunnel was there.  Another arrow came out of the darkness.  The men stood out in the darkness with four burning torches in scions along the inner wall.  Syrio had put their torch out when Arya had went around the corner.  The arrow missed.  _Damn_!  Arya thought.  She staggered forward acting injured.  She was on her man as they milled around confused.  These were not true soldiers.

Arya pulled her left hand out from behind her leg and pulled it back.  Her hand slashed violently out and across.  The blade biting into the man’s unarmored belly.  The blade cutting deep.  The man screamed as blood and ichor gushed out his cut open belly.  Arya cutting his intestines open.  His intestines pushing out the incision in an obscene bulge.  The man reached down immediately to try and hold his guts in his belly.  The man continued screaming.

Arya looked around wildly.  Another man, the furthest away had gone down with an arrow in his upper shoulder.  The man was levering himself back up.  Arya pulled Needle from off her back to her hip.  She reached for it pulling it out.  The first man hit in the hip had an arrow bury itself in his upper belly.  Now he was screaming in agony.

Syrio was running down the dock now.  “Arya the jailer!” Syrio screamed at her.  She turned and looked.  The jailer was making a break for the stairs back up into the dudgeon.  Arya did not think about it.  She raised her left hand up and back and she threw her Needle at the man.  The small sword flashed out from her hand. 

The sword whistled through the hair.  The man was up to the second stair step.  Needle pounded into the man’s back slamming through his back near his shoulder blade.  The man stumbled and his body slammed into the stairs.  The wounded man tried to get up on shaky arms.  Arya ran over to the man. 

“Nooooooo!” she heard Syrio scream. She ignored him.  She reached the jailer.  He was trying to crawl up the stairs.  She heard the sound of a bullwhip cracking in the air behind her.  She pulled Needle out of the man with blood staining his tunic on his back.  She swiped her blade across the back of the man’s neck shattering his spinal column and severing his spinal cord.  He fell dead.  She turned around.

The last man was cut down by Syrio.  His bullwhip falling to the dock.  Arya saw what had made the Water Dancer scream.  The last man had pushed the men into the river.  Two were in the running water thrashing.  They disappeared beneath the dark surface.  The last man who had begged for life for the three men had his manacled arms jammed up on the dock but was slowly slipping off.  Arya grabbed the keys off the jailer ripping the rings free of his belt.  She ran back to the dock edge.  As she approached the last man slipped off with a splash into the water.

Arya dropped the keys and dove into the water.  The last man was trying to stay above the water but he went under.  Arya hit the water and wildly grabbed the man and kicked for the surface.  She was being dragged down as she kicked hard.  The weight of three men to much for but she continued to struggle to save the men.  Then the load lessened and she kicked up and broke the surface of the water.  Syrio had a hold of a fat bald man holding his head above the water.  He had dived into the water too to help save the men.  The man was struggling wildly.  They were all beside the low brimmed skiff.  All three prisoners gasping for breath.  Syrio punched the wildly struggling man he had saved in the temple.  The man  went limp.

Syrio somehow found the strength to surge up and heave the man halfway into the low skiff.  The last two men were kicking wildly as much as they could with their manacled legs.  Syrio got behind the “mercy” man and Arya helped Syrio surge up and take the "mercy" man over the gunwale.  She noticed he had a wound binding around his right shoulder and blood was weeping into the gauze.  Together they heaved the last man over the edge of the skiff.  The man spitting up water in a harsh coughing fit.

Arya watched Syrio move over to the dock.  He disappeared below the water and splashed straight up out of the water with his body till the water cut his body off at his knees.  Syrio put his palms on the dock and pivoted around.  He sat down water streaming down his face.  The three exhausted men clung to the gunwales of the skiff.  Arya moved over to an open spot on the skiff and pulled herself up.  Syrio’s training coming to her aid.  Strong as a bull.  She sat down on the bottom of the skiff. 

She sighed and started to help the three men get fully into the boat.  She started to pull on the ‘mercy’ man.  He looked up at her with hazel eyes.  His gaze intent.  The boat rocked with Syrio jumping down into the boat. He came over to Arya and helped the exhausted man get over the edge of the built.  The man flopped onto his stomach.  Arya then moved to the next man who was burly and stout.  She felt his body was covered with hair getting the man into the boat.

The last man was enormous and bald, with soft, doughy flesh. He had regained consciousness.  The man hissed at them and Arya saw he had teeth that were sharp like canines.  He hissed at her directly snarling.

“His tongue has been cut out” the Mercy man gasped to her.  His tongue had been cut.  He could not speak, except to hiss. His teeth had been filed into points.  Syrio jumped back out of the boat and went to the jailer’s keys and brought them to Arya.  He jumped down into the boat again.  He pulled out his long dagger.  He spun it around and rapped the bald man in the head knocking him out yet again.  Arya felt sorry for the man.  Syrio pivoted around and did the same on the back of the burly man’s head knocking him out.  Lastly he rapped the back of the last man’s head.

“Why did you do that Syrio?”

“They are criminals Arya.  We cannot take any undue risk.  Unlock them and help me put the dead men in the river.  I see some buckets on the back wall along with brooms and rakes.  I want to reduce the evidence.”  He got out of the boat and walked to the nearest dead guard and gripped his feet and started to drag him toward the edge of the wharf.

Arya went to the fat man and was thankful that man was on his sides.  She looked at the key rings.  Most of the keys looked the same.  They had to be the keys to the doors of the dungeon.  There were three smaller keys on a smaller ring.  She tried the first key. It went into the keyhole but nothing happened.  She tried the second key and smiled when the key turned and the manacles released.  She pulled them off.  She went to the second man.  He was on his stomach. She grunted and cursed as she finally succeeded in half rolling the man to his side.  She soon had his lock undone.

She went to the last man, the "mercy" man.  Arya groaned preparing to roll him over.  The man had faked being unconscious.  He spoke to her.  “Why did you save us girl?  We were dead.  Valar Morghulis.  You have cheated death of three souls.  Anyone else would have let us drown.  You put your life in danger.”  The man half rolled over to look at her with red rimmed eyes.  His stare placid but direct.  She took in the rounded plains of his face and black hair.

“Are you going to cause me trouble sir?”  The man continued to stare at her.

“No.” 

“Why should I believe you?”

“You have saved me from death when you need not.  You have cheated death of three souls.  Our souls.  Death must be paid.  I will not harm you girl.”

Arya believed him.  She reached down and unlocked his shackles. 

The man lightly touched her hand.  He looked at her with that direct almost spooky intensity.

“Three souls you have cheated death.  Three deaths he is owed.  Valar Dohaeris.  I am in your debt.  I will pay that debt.  What is your name girl?”

“Arya Stark.  Daughter of Eddard Stark.  I am his daughter.  He is the greatest man who ever lived.  I am going to save him.”

The man looked at her.  His gaze went to questioning. 

“He may be great but he is a sheep among wolves.”

“My father is a great warrior!” she hissed softly to the man.  This was between her and this man.  Syrio had no part of this.  “No one can defeat him” she barked at the man softly.

“On the field of battle this is most assured girl. The Game of Thrones is not a field of battle.  Remember this girl.  I am in your debt.  I will not forget.”

“What is your name ‘mercy man?’”

The man’s eyes went back to inscrutable.  “I have many names Arya of Stark.  You can call me nameless.”

Arya had tired of the cryptic talk.  Arya undid his locks.  The man rolled back onto his stomach.  Arya jumped out of the skiff.  Syrio had deposited the second body into the water.

“What took you Arya?”

“The locks.”  Syrio looked at her but they had much to do and little time to do it.  Soon they had all the bodies floating away on the underground river.  Syrio then had them get the buckets and they splashed water on the docks and used the brooms to clean most of the blood away and swept the blood into the river.  They went to the steps and washed the blood away from the steps.

They spent another five minutes going over the stains again cleaning them further.  The lack of blood would make the events hard to divine. 

“You ready to get in the boat Syrio?”

“We are not going on the boat.  We will unmoor and push it out into the current.  The three men will have their chance at freedom.”

Syrio calmly stood there and endured Arya’s intense stare.  “I thought you said we had to flee and then come back.  We have a way now.”

“We were running blind.  I have my bearings now.  I told you I have seen the hidden passages of the Sea Lord’s Place.  I have seen them in the Arsenal, the Palace of Truth and the Antaryans.  They are all the same.  The hidden passages connecting points of power and interest.  Prisons are always connected to the seats of power and intrigue.  King’s Landing will be no different.  It is the nature of power and those who wield it.”

“I am sure we can catch a spider or maybe a warbler.”

Arya looked at him.  First Mr. Mercy and now her master were talking strangely.

“We will go to the jailer’s office. I know we will find a passage.”

Arya was not so sure but the conviction in Syrio’s voice convinced her.  

“I am not sure about letting the boat go Syrio” Arya voiced her concern.

Syrio answered “We are both excellent swimmers.  Also, if I do not find what I seek we will bring something down that floats. The skiff tells me that the river has a clear shot to the ocean that is not hampered by enclosure.  We will in fact will be less conspicuous anyways.” 

Arya was impressed as always.  Syrio had thought it through.  They went to the skiff and unleashed if from the dock.  They watched the slow current grab the skiff and slowly rotate it away from the dock and it floated away.

“It is time for us to leave Arya.”

Arya looked at the skiff riding the current and away from her.  She wondered again about the “mercy man”. They turned to look at the dock and stairs leading up to the dungeon.

They started up the steps.  Syrio held the torch down in front of them.  He looked at the foot prints in the vague dust.  He followed the steps up and slowly the air became fresher and less dusty.  They came to two intersections of corridors.  Syrio confidently choose the tunnel to go down. 

He did seem to be in his element Arya thought.

“How do you know the way Master?”

“Look with your eyes. Hear with your ears.  The environment tells you much Arya.  You must learn to listen to what your environment tells you Arya.”

They kept going up.  Arya’s calves were beginning to ache from the constant stepping up steps and the pull of gravity on her body.  She gritted her teeth.  She had trained just for moments like this.  She ignored the stitch now stabbing her in the side.

“I am well impressed with your stamina Arya.  You are holding up very well my student.”

The pain became a little less.

They continued walking up the steps.  Then they had entered the dudgeon.  Now there was torches in scions placed at regular intervals.  Arya saw rows and rows of corridors with cells visible that came off the corridor that had leveled out.

“Do you think my father is here Syrio?”

“No.  It has only been roughly four maybe five hours since this all started.  Things will still be unsettled.  They are holding him close near the Tower of the Hand I am sure under heavy guard.  They still cannot be sure that there is not a band of Northmen on the loose.  We two created much havoc in our escape.  We left dead in a trail they cannot follow.  They will see the mayhem in our training room and around your room.”

“I can tell you assuredly that they cannot even begin to fathom that we two created the death we did. They will be bringing in massive numbers constantly sweeping the halls of the Red Keep looking for the large force that laid waste to their Lannisters.  We still have time.  The jailers probably won’t be missed for a day or two or sooner if they decide to bring your father here.  If they do, they will bring him here in force.  They will take no chances.”

“Can we not lie in wait and ambush them?”

“Maybe but there are too many variables Arya.  Your father is terribly injured.  They could easily threaten his safety if we attack.  Do you want that Arya?  To have them slit his throat before we can reach him.”

“You know the answer to that Syrio damnit!” she barked back at the man.  They continued to walk down the hall. They came to an intersection.  Syrio walked straight through.  They soon came to a door slightly more ornate than the other doors that Arya had seen in profusion in the dudgeon.

“Please let me see the keys Arya.”

Arya handed them to Syrio.  He held them up.  He inspected the keys as he slowly turned the keys around back and forth.  He spotted the key he was looking for.  He gripped it and tried it in the lock of the door.  The key turned.  They entered the room and closed the door behind them.

The room had a large plain desk on the left wall.  There were some wooden shallow baskets on the left of the desk.  On the back wall was a simple bed on a wooden platform with straw within the border slats.  On the other wall from the desk was a large brazier that had come coals burning red.  There was a coat stand in one corner.  The office was plain.  On a small corner table was a pitcher and a brick of cheese, loaf of black bread with a bowl of oranges.  There were several small plates and tall glasses.

Arya felt her stomach rumble.  She walked quickly to the table.  She sniffed the pitcher.  It was water.  She spotted a small paring knife.  She cut a section of cheese and ripped off a large chunk of bread.  She ravenously bit into the cheese and bread.  She wolfed down her meal in noisy gulps.  She watched Syrio walking around the perimeter of the room looking closely at the wall. He ran his fingers along joints among the fitted stones.  His face sometimes leaning into the wall to look at it closely.

He walked around the room inspecting all four walls with an intense focus.  His face betrayed nothing.  He came over to the table and cut out several sections of cheese that he started to eat while pulling off sections of black bread and ate the chunks of dark bread.  He poured them both a glass of water to wash the food down.  They ate more cheese and bread.  Arya felt her hunger begin to abet.  She wolfed down more bread and cheese.  They ate in silence.  She picked up an orange and handed it to Syrio and she took one.  They ate their oranges.

They had finished their meal.  Arya had seen a pouch on the stand in the opposite corner.  She put the remaining bread, cheese and remaining three oranges in it.  They drank the rest of the water.  Arya knew they needed to be hydrated.  She could not be sure when they would find more water.

Arya smirked at Syrio.  “Okay.  Where is the door?  Abracadabra” she waved her hand.

Syrio snickered.  He looked at her askance.  “You are demanding you know.”

Arya smiled at him sweetly.

He went to the wall behind them.  He traced again a seam.  He looked across the room.  The room had two torches on each wall.  He went to the opposite wall and pulled the torch scion. Nothing happened. 

Arya was disappointed.  Syrio turned and glared at her.  He pushed, pulled and rotated the scion.  There was a click after a complicated set of push, pull and rotates on the scion holder.  Arya heard a loud sliding scraping sound.  The area that Syrio had inspected more closely than other sections of he wall Arya now saw had recessed in several inches.

She looked back at Syrio who now had a sweet condescending smile on his face.  He walked to the recessed section of the door.  He pushed it and it easily pushed back. 

“You are going to be insufferable aren’t you Syrio?”

“Yes I am.”  They went into the hidden hall.  In it Arya saw some unlighted torches in scions.  The floor had footprints in the dust coating the stones.  She had the pouch of food around her shoulder.  Syrio came into the hall.  He looked at the scion by the door.  He took the torch out and lit it with his flint.  He handed the torch to Arya.  He pushed the door back. It was not as easy going in this direction. 

Arya came up and helped him push the door shut.  Syrio went to the scion and repeated the motions he had done in the jailer’s office.  Arya heard pins sliding down into place and locking the door in place.  She would have never seen the door.  She doubted anyone could have found the door who did not know how.  Syrio took the torch back.

“Were are going Syrio?”

“We are going to move up.  We need to find a certain spider in its web.  Let’s see what sparrows he has trapped.”

Arya wracked her mind trying to decipher what Syrio was alluding too.  She then remembered her father once saying Varys had sparrows.  She had not been sure what he spoke of. Then another thought hit her and she felt anger.  She remembered hearing two men talking in the cavern near the room with the dragon skulls.  She remember words spoken out of the darkness “if one Hand could die, so could another”.  She somehow knew that one of those men had been this Varys.  She suddenly could not wait to meet his man.

“What do you mean sparrows Syrio?”

“Varys is a master of the hidden truth and gleaned secret.  He has spies everywhere.  I would not be surprised if he did not know of this coupe.   The man probably betrayed your father by not reporting the machinations of the Lannisters even though that was his duty to report to the Hand all such nefarious plots.  I saw the same thing to many times in Braavos.  It saddens me to see the same thing happens in Westeros.”

They started to move down the corridor.  They had several unlighted torches with them in case they became lost in a labyrinth.  They came to a stair and went up.  They were both moving as silent as a mouse.  They kept walking in silence.  They went up three more levels. Now the corridors were lite if dimly with far spaced torches.  Syrio put out their torch.  They discarded their torches in a dark recess.  He put his finger to his lips.  Now they became as silent as the grave.

They heard scuffling feet.  They pulled back into an alcove.  A small girl appeared in the hall and walked on.  The girl did not see them in the dark shadows.  They let her walk on until she was a hundred feet in front of them.  They followed the girl.  She never knew she was being followed.

They went up another level.  Now the girl was joined by a young man.  They walked around a bend in the hall.  Syrio pushed his finger into Arya and motioned for her to stay.  She saw him quickly move forward but still making no noise.  She waited.  Soon Syrio returned with both the girl and a young man.  They were walking awkwardly in their fear.  Their mouths had gags in them.  The two youths stumbled into each other whimpering.   

The two youths had wide eyes and were shaking violently and sweating profusely.

Syrio pulled out his long dagger.  He swirled it around his fingers in a blur.  The two youths eyes followed the dagger like hypnotized doves.

“You report to Varys I do believe.  I have business to discuss with your master.  I need you to take me to him.”

The two youths were making noises and shaking.  The young man shook his head ‘no’.  Syrio took his dagger and traced its tip along both of their throats.  He pressed into their skin drawing a trickle of blood from each of their throats.  The whimpers made Arya’s heart clench.  They were safe with Syrio.  They had no way of knowing that.

The young man whimpered and fainted.  Syrio bent down beside the youth.  He stabbed down in a flash.  The girl screamed into her gag. 

Syrio cut strips of cloth form the youths blouse top and bound the boy’s wrists and ankles tight.   

Arya saw that Syrio had just missed the young man with his blade but the girl could not see that.  She was now shaking violently.  The girl was too addled to wonder why Syrio was putting bindings on the boy.

Finished binding the boy, Syrio rose up to confront the girl.  “Are you going to take me to Varys?” Syrio asked the girl showing her his blade again up close.  She failed to notice it was not covered in blood.  She was just a little girl who spied.  She was not a seasoned spy like you read in the histories or expensive if cheesy novels that the rich could afford to read.

The barely teen shook her head hard up and down her eyes as big as saucers.  Syrio traced the blade around her throat and face again to remind her of consequences.  She girl was made of sterner stuff than the young man.  She whimpered but did not faint.  Syrio bound her arms together with a strip of cloth at her wrists and her elbows.

“Lead the way little sprite” Syrio commanded the girl.

The girl again shook her head so hard Arya was afraid her head would fall off.  They started down the hall.  Arya could tell Syrio had his senses tuned.  He paused their advance after two minutes.  Arya held the girl as Syrio disappeared around the corner of an intersection.  A minute later Syrio head appeared around the corner and motioned for them to advance. 

When they rounded the corner and went down twenty feet there was an unconscious teenage girl on the floor of the corridor.  She had a contusion on her forehead.  She too had bound wrists and ankles.  Arya was sure that the girl in her grasp thought the girl was dead and not knocked out.  They advanced on.  The girl was crying now. 

Arya was sorry for the girl.  She knew the girl was sure she was about to die.  Arya was not about to help dispel that thought until they had reached Varys.  They now went up a spiraling stair.  Syrio and Arya could see from the girl’s face they had arrived.

Syrio put his hand around the girl’s throat and gently squeezed. 

“I am going to cut you free.  Open the door or I will kill you.  Do you understand?”

The girl shook her head violently ‘yes’.

He cut the girl free.  She reached out and pushed in on the wall over her head and then pushed in now near her knee.

A crease silently appeared.

In a flash the Water Dancer hit the girl in the temple with the butt of his dagger.  The girl crumpled.

Arya knew she had to keep her voice down.  “Why?” she fumed.

“I cannot risk the girl causing problems till we get Varys fully under our control.

Arya had to agree with that assessment.

Syrio whispered “Of course the Keeper of Secrets keeps his door oiled and silent.”  He pushed open the door a sliver and twisted his head gazing out.

In an explosive move he was out the door.  Arya heard scuffling and panicked squeaks. 

She came out the door to look around.

Syrio had his dagger to Varys throat.  Syrio snarled.

“Oh my!” Varys gasped his bulk rising up on his toes trying to move his throat back from the dagger pressed in his throat.

Arya came before the now sweating bald man.

“Let us discuss ‘the changing of Hands’” she told the man coldly.

The bald man gulped loudly.


	4. Deal with the Devil

Insurrection

Deal With the Devil

 

Arya looked into the fat man’s face that had beads of sweat glistening on his brows and upper lip.  His bald head filmed with perspiration.  His eyes darting from Syrio to herself.  Syrio drew blood with the tip of his blade.

“I ought to gut you for the worthless piece of shit you are Varys.  I know your kind.  We have your doppelganger in Braavos.  The Sealord has his own person whispering him all the ‘secrets’.  Whether real or not.  He goes by the name of Enigma and his agents we call ‘Wraiths’ for their ability to walk through walls.  Or should I saw walk through tunnels behind the walls.”

“Spare me!  I have great value!” Varys cried out loudly.

“Like you had value for my father” Arya asked in a deadly calm voice.  “You turned on him Varys.  You are a traitor. Syrio—“

“NO!  I can help save your father!”

“Why should I believe you viper?  I should cut your head off and see if the body can still live.”

Varys was shaking now.  Arya felt almost hate for the man who had betrayed her father.  “Tell me why you betrayed my father.  Lannister’s are scum and you helped them dispose my father the rightful Hand!”

“I did all I could child.  I talked to your father several times on what he needed to do.  He needed to arrest Cersei and her children.  He needed to put the Lannister’s on the defense.  He needed to take the Iron Throne to deprive the Lannister’s its power.  Your father showed them compassion when none was given in return.  I told him this.”

“You lie!”

“No, I do not.  I did indeed tell your father this child.  Your father has a certain blindness on matters of court.  He shows mercy where no should be given.  Cersei is focused on only one thing.  Power and how to acquire it.  That is her only purpose; her only goal.  She will defend Joffrey’s right to the Iron Throne like the proverbial lioness defending her cub.”

“Did she kill Robert?”

“No child she did not.  She gave him wine that was spiked indeed.  But she did not make King Robert drink it.  She did not make him drink it to excess.  She did not make Robert hunt a wild boar when he was drunk.  Cersei only gave him the tools of his own demise.  Robert did all the work himself.”

Arya was still furious with the Whisper but she saw some truth in what he was saying.  Her father was a kind gentle man.

“What did you mean by my father showing them compassion?”

“Your father finally figured out what was plain before all who have eyes.”

Syrio spoke up.  “I have told you to see with your eyes Arya.   I saw upon my arrival here.”

Arya looked at him with curious eyes.  Her eyebrows knit trying to decipher what Syrio could be talking about.

“Do you remember my lesson I told you of the fat old tomcat that sat on the Sealord’s lap?”

“I remember it.  The Sealord said his cat was special when in reality it was only a spoiled fat old tom. You did not let his words cloud your vision.”

“Yes child.  The same thing is working here.  See with your eyes and not with your expectations.” 

Arya thought and thought but she could not pierce the veil.  She was still not sure what her master or Varys was speaking of. 

“How did you know Varys?  Speak true fat man.  I am good at hearing lies.  I will skewer and spit you if you lie to me.”

Arya watched the fat bald eunuch stare at Syrio.  His brow was sweating profusely now.  She saw dark spots forming underneath his armpits and his cowl line was darkening with sweat.

“I had my sparrows reporting to me.  Also, the truth was plain at each birth.”

Arya was still flummoxed.

Syrio smiled at her.  “You are still young Arya.  No one else who should have seen it saw the truth either.  I am assuming Jon Arryn discovered the truth.”

“Yes he did.”

“I suppose Cersei had him killed.”

“I cannot be sure but my sparrows never saw her or his agents near where the poison could have been administered.  Also, she was still sure at the time in her deceptions.”

Syrio tapped his chin.  “I wonder who else it could be.  Do you have any theories Varys?”

“No.  I do not.  I do not think the Lannisters did the deed.  Cersei would have attacked in an instant but still felt safe.  Who else had a motive I cannot fathom.”

“What is the secret for crying out loud?!” Arya cried out in frustration.

Syrio chuckled and then his demeanor turned somber.

“Cersei has lain with Jamie Lannister to sire her three children Arya.  One can see it in the color of their eyes and hair.  Their faces are the mirror of their father and sister.  There is no trace of Robert Baratheon in their countenance.  I saw it the first time I saw the children after I had seen Jamie.  He is lying with his sister.  The likeness was too pure to be anything else.  I merely saw the truth not what everyone expected.”

Arya was shocked at what she heard.  The instant Arya heard Syrio’s words she knew they were true.  How could she not have seen it?!  How could her father not seen it?  Then it hit her.

“My father figured out Cersei and Jamie were sleeping together and Cersei sired their children didn’t he?” she asked though in this too she already knew it was truth. 

“Yes my child” Varys told her.  “He found a book with a detailed lineage on the Great Houses of Westeros.  There have been unions in the past between the two houses in question and with other houses of fair linage.  The dark hair and blue eyes always triumphed.  I do not know how.”

“Genetics” Syrio spoke softly.

“Excuse me” Varys asked.

“In Braavos at a university, Watchtower Science Academy.  They study how traits are passed down from parents to children.  They have a theory of what they call dominate genes.  Example, dark hair will win over blond hair.  The family must have blond in its lineage for a child to be blond.  The blond “gene” lying dormant for generations till it can partner with a ‘blond’ gene from the other parent.  No one in the lineage of House Baratheon has been blond.  All children are black haired.  This is what your father and I suppose this Jon Arryn finally divined.”

“Is that the truth of it Varys” Arya asked in a hostile tone.  She wanted the full truth.

“It is so child.  I counseled against your father trying to reason with Cersei.  To allow her to flee.  It is not in her character.  His compassion was his undoing.  I told him this.”

“Did you tell him of the Lannister treason?” Arya snarled.

“Cersei is the Regent to the heir apparent, child.  That trumps the office of the Hand.  Robert Baratheon was dead.”

Syrio spoke up again.  “We have access to the tunnels now Arya.  I have a perfect memory.  I can easily find our way back to the prison.  I will find us a way out of the City.  We will hide and then come back by the same tunnels.  Let us kill this worm.”

“No!” Varys shouted.   “I will take you too long to learn the tunnels.”

“I think not” Syrio replied.  His left hand tightened around the upper rob of Varys with his right hand tightening on the dagger in his hand.

“We have a faceless man in our dungeon.  I know of a person who can heal your father through magic Arya.  If I die now your father will most likely die.  At the best he will be a cripple.  Also, I know what Joffrey has planned.  Joffrey has been planning his ascension to the throne for a year now.  Robert’s death was most fortuitous for Joffrey.  He has plans that Cersei is not privy too.”

“Your sparrows?” Syrio asked.

“Yes.  They have been spying on Joffrey.  My spies have access to most royal quarters and the quarters of the Hand and many other locations.  I am most valuable to those who know how to use my knowledge and insights.

Syrio looked at her.  It was her call.

Arya had seen how badly her father’s leg had been injured.  He would never be able to walk again without the use of a cane.  His days fighting with a sword were over.  Unless he could be healed.

“This ‘healer’ can make my father whole again.”

“Yes Arya.  He is a Druid priest from the misty past.  He is of extreme age though to look at him you would think he is a man in his late twenties or early thirties.  They are a powerful religion.  He can heal your father.  He will require a price.”  He saw Arya starting to speak up “And I do not know what it will be.  They are elusive and fey people.  They have their own goals and devices which have nothing to do with the Iron Throne or the games we play around it like a Maypole.

Arya made her decision.  “We will not kill Varys, Syrio.  He has spoken truly about the tunnels.  Do you have a map of the tunnels?”

“I have a base map but I have discovered so much more I have not added to the map.”

“How convenient” Syrio sneered.

“It is the truth.  I can take you to the Faceless Man.  I can tell the jailer a long tale to convince him to give us access to the cells.”

Syrio barked a short laugh.  “One less card for you to deal Varys.  The jailer and his guards are dead.”

Varys looked between Syrio and Arya.  “It would seem your body count continues to grow.  We found many dead scattered throughout the Red Keep.  Especially around Arya’s quarters.  That was you two?”

“Yes it was” Arya stepped in.  “We killed all that came against us.  We came across the jailer and killed him to.”  She saw no reason to give him any more information.

Syrio was looking over Varys’s desk.  “It seems you have many correspondences fat man.  I see Illyrio Mopatis signature.  He does much business with the Sea Lords.  I think we know of another conspirator.  Add him to our list Arya.”

Syrio reached down between the two top most drawers.  The wood was slightly askance between the drawers.  Syrio bent down.  He moved the wood slowly and then a part of the desk on the other side and on the upper terrace of the desk jutted out.  Syrio pulled and pushed it till it cantered out.  Syrio pulled out a thick binding sheath of parchments.

Varys was sweating even more profusely now.

Syrio pulled over a blank parchment.  He then handed Varys a quill.  “Write exactly what I say fat man.  I see how you write. If you try any chicanery I will chop off you thumb.  Do I make myself clear?”

The bald eunuch was calm now but Arya could sense the tension in the man.  He knew his life still hung in the balance. 

“I have acquired the poison needed to kill Joffrey.  This will require Cersei to become regent again until Tommen comes of age.  We can use this time to expose her incestuous relationship with Jamie …”

Syrio continued to dictate the letter that would implicate Varys in treason and murder.

“She will not believe this” Varys calmly intoned to Syrio.

Syrio laughed.  “Not only will she believe it, she will convince herself that she knew it all along my dear Varys.  The royals may need the likes of you Varys but they are always looking for a reason to put your kind down.  They need and loath you.  She will believe it and you know that Varys.

“There are many ex-Braavosi in King’s Landing and other contacts I have made since my exile.  I will put this letter in a safe place.  If I do not successfully communicate with all of them every day they will send this letter to Cersei.  None will know I have asked others to do the same.  Do not try and have me followed.  I will know it.” 

Varys had finished writing, signing and putting his seal of a spider on the parchment.

Syrio made him write the same letter five more times and put his seal on it.

Varys glared at the man.  “It would seem the Sealord’s palace is filled with vipers.”

“Yes it is Varys.  Yes it is.  One becomes very adept at the Game of Thrones in Braavos.  If you do not, you die.  It is really that simple Varys” Syrio told the bald eunuch.  “Now that simple truth holds for you.”

Varys looked much aggrieved but held his tongue.

Syrio put the purloined papers he had stolen from Varys and the scrolls in a pouch he found in the room. 

“Okay Varys.  Let us take a voyage to the dungeons how bout we.  If there is indeed a Faceless Man still in the cells then we will have a potential powerful ally.  If not we will kill him.”

Arya spoke up.  “No we will not!  We are not Lannisters.”

“Arya you do not know what these men and women are capable of.  They are true only to the House of Black and White and the contract they are currently working on.  They are dangerous beyond measure.  Capturing one is almost impossible.  How did you accomplish it bald man.”

“I was forced to betray him.  The need to have the man killed went away.  He was too important to kill unless it was absolutely necessary.  The Faceless Man killed over fifteen soldiers and sellswords taking him down.”

“I am sure he will be happy to hear of your betrayal.”

Varys glared at the man but he knew he was not in a position to do any other thing.  Syrio and Arya held all the cards.  They entered back into the tunnels.  Varys saw the knocked out young girl.

His eyes flared in alarm. “You did not kill her did you?!   Are their more?  They have done nothing to you!” he raged.

Arya felt her ire settle just a small amount more.  She could see it in her master.  He too felt a touch of something seeing Varys rage about the unconscious youth.

“Why is it the innocent who always pay for the sins of the adults?!”

“Relax man” Syrio told the whisper of secrets.  “They are only unconscious.  We needed them unconscious when we confronted you.”

Syrio had brought some belts from Syrio’s quarters.  He bound the girl’s limbs.  As they walked back down the hidden tunnel they came to the other girl and young boy still knocked out.  Their limbs were still bound.

Syrio was right.  He quickly traced his ways back to the jailer’s quarters.  They went to the key ring they had left in the quarters.  “Which cell eunuch?”

“I will show you.”  They walked out the jailer’s quarters and walked down the corridor.  They went down to the third cross corridor and turned to the left.  They went down the hall.    The torches in the scions providing a ghostly light.  The corridor slightly turned to the right.  They went around the turn.

Varys gasped “No. No.  It is not possible.”  One of the doors was open.  Varys scurried to the cell and looked in.  His face was a deathly white.

Syrio looked at Arya behind Varys back.  The man entered the cell all the time saying “No, no, no”.  Syrio and Arya instinctively knew that one of the three men they had freed had been the Faceless Man that Varys could not believe was not in his cell.

He looked back at them in shock.  “I would not have believed it.  The lock is not exposed on the inside.  It is impossible for him to have gotten out.”  Varys did a slow circle around in the empty cell.

Arya had no intention to inform the man of what happened.  She was rapidly learning that knowledge was power in this Game of Thrones.

“It would appear that your Faceless Man has escaped.  I am sure he is already planning his reprisal against you for your treachery.  Maybe he had some help.” Arya told the man.  She enjoyed seeing Varys’ eyes darting around.  Arya had not lied to the man.  She merely did not tell Varys it was her and Syrio who had freed this Faceless Man.

“You must protect me!

The man was long gone now on the skiff.  Probably going back to wherever Faceless Men went Arya thought to herself.

“We will protect you as long as you hold up your end of the bargain.  My father is a fair man.”

Syrio jumped in “How long do you think Cersei will delay putting Eddard in the dungeon.  How long before he is executed.”

“Cersei plans on Eddard Stark taking the Black.  It will take time for Cersei to arrange the sham confession and banishment.  It is Joffrey as I told you that has plans to execute Eddard.  Cersei thinks she can control the youth.  She cannot.  He is cruel and despotic.  He in time will kill her.  He will kill all around him.  He has the same sickness as King Aerys II Targaryen.  He was mad.  Joffrey is mad as well but he is cursed with cruelty too.  In time someone must put him down.”

“How long before they know the jailer is no more.”

“That will be when they bring Eddard here or a routine change of the guard.  That will be in three days.”

“Can we ambush them when they do this Syrio?”

“I advise against it Arya.”

“Why”

Varys spoke up.  “You and your Water Dancer’s rampage has Cersei and Joffrey spooked.  Finding a Kingsguard dead and Lannisters cut down in great quantities where no one saw any Northerners has everyone on edge.  They are convinced that a small band of Northerners are on the loose in the King’s Keep.  They will be moving in force for some time yet.”

“I agree with the Whisperer Arya.  We need to consider how best to free your father.  They will for a day, maybe more, maybe much longer if given reason guard your father heavily and only then reduce the guard.  We will strike the Lannisters hard to give them that reason.  If we continue to strike them hard they will be cautious and move slowly.”

Syrio turned to Varys.  “Alright baldy—lets have you show us the way out of here and take us to this Druid’s residence.”  Syrio smiled evilly at the bald man.  “I will have you know the Faceless Man was going to be drowned down below in an underground river with two other men. We freed them.  You do know of "Valar Dohaeris" don’t you my dear Varys.  The man owes us.  He will not forget.  He owes us.  He will delay your slaying only as long we forebear him.”

Arya agreed with telling Syrio telling the Whisperer that they had freed the Faceless Man.  It was not exactly the truth but since she did not speak the falsehood she felt alright with the deception.  Varys was a liar himself.

Varys eyes flared at that but he regained his composure immediately.  “I need to get back. I will be missed.”

“I think you will not be missed maggot.  I am sure we are in the middle of the night.  I keep very good time whisperer.  We still have time to have the pleasure of your company for a little while longer.  Lead the way my dear man.”

Varys looked at them with his steady gaze.  He seemed to have recovered from his earlier shocks.  He put his hands in the folds of his robe.  He sighed.  “It would appear I am in your debt.  How do I know you will keep your part of the bargain?”

Syrio looked at him evilly.  “You have the same assurance that Eddard Stark had in you.”

Varys let his control slip for a moment and Arya again saw the fear flash over his countenance.  She liked how Syrio constantly kept the bald man off balance.  It put great fear in his heart. Fear that would keep him in their control.

She stepped up to the bald man.  She put her dagger to his throat.

“I am not my father.  At the slightest sign of treachery I will slit your belly wide open and then I will slit your throat.  Do I make myself clear Varys?”

The man’s face had a fresh sheen of sweat on his face.

“I fully believe you wolf child.  If your father had your temperament we would not be in this current precarious predicament.”

Arya was not sure if there was not a subtle insult in there somewhere but she would let it slide.  Her father’s safety and healing was paramount.

“Take us to this Druid Varys.  We need to arrange for my father’s healing when we save him.”

The man started to protest but Syrio now put his dagger to the man’s throat from behind.

“I would advise you Varys to start following our instructions to the letter.  We can do this ourselves.  I could find this Druid.  I learned the skullduggery of your craft while being First Sword in Braavos.  You are just a convenience.  Do I make _myself_ clear?”

The bald man looked Arya still in front of him.  “Yes.  I fully understand my situation.  I do not want to die in service for the realm. That was what your father was asking of me Arya Stark.  His plans were suicidal.  I warned and warned him but he would not follow my counsel.  He was helpless before the likes of Cersei and Petyr Baelish.  His compassion for Cersei’s children and for Robert Baratheon blinded him to the reality of his situation.”

Arya ground her teeth because at the root she heard the truth.  Her father in many ways was too noble for the job of the Hand.  The last half day and more had shown her that.  She was learning lessons she would never forget.  She only hoped her father lived to learn them himself.

Arya was anxious to get started.  She needed to save and heal her father.  She looked at Syrio.

He returned her look.  “Let’s get started on our journey to this Druid Varys.  Time is wasting.  As you have said with the rising dawn our opportunities diminish.  We must go to ground and hide while we plan.  Lead the way Varys.”

They started down the hidden corridor.

“I have glanced at these papers you had hidden Varys.  Quite interesting.  I see you wrote the notes backwards using a mirror.  Quite skilled.  Still I can read it.  Much of it is in code I see but I am trained in code breaking too.  One must have many skills to be the First Sword of Braavos.  I will make sure this information is passed around and will pass on to the Iron Throne if I or Arya should die.”

Syrio was now on one shoulder of Varys and Arya on the other with their daggers out.  Varys glanced both ways at them looking at the daggers.  He knew his fate.

“I want what is best for the realm.  Always.  When your father first arrived I had hope.  It was quickly dashed.  I wish you were Queen Arya.  Teach your father.  He has the temperament to be a benevolent and wise ruler sitting on the Iron Throne.  He is merely unskilled in governance.  The Iron Throne has always attracted vipers, sluggards, louts and raving lunatics I fear.  It is written in its history.”

They moved down tunnels.  Arya saw Syrio looking around and she saw his lips moving.  She was sure that he was counting steps and memorizing any features that the winking torch light presented.  He was memorizing the layout of the tunnels.

They walked on for what seemed like an hour.  The tunnels moving first up and then down.  Arya saw the torches evenly spaced and lit.  These tunnels were in constant use.  The air was not dank and musty.  These tunnels had use to them.  Arya looked around.  It was like living in a dream walking these the tunnels that only a few knew of.  Now she knew of them.  She had become a wraith herself Arya smiled.  Her smile became feral remembering that these tunnels branched into the royal chambers. 

No one would be safe from her vengeance if her father was executed. 

They walked on for another ten minutes.  Arya saw cobwebs in the corners and strong along the high ceilings.  They looked like strands of fate leading from nowhere to nowhere.  They came to a stairs.

“This leads up to the back of bakery.  It is a store room.  The early staff will be making the first loaves.  We will go out the backway.  Be quiet and keep your heads down” Varys softly informed them.  Varys pointed to some spare torches leaning against the wall near the stairwell.  Syrio grabbed one.

They went up to a landing and Varys slowly opened the door as if he lived there.  The three stepped out into the darkness.  Syrio had light his torch just before they opened the door.  They moved quietly through the detritus of the back storeroom careful to make no noises.  They came to a door and Varys opened it.  It lead to a hall that Varys motioned them to follow him.  From the front they could hear the sounds of people softly talking and the clanking of loaves of bread being put in the kilns for the first bread of the day.

The small group arrived at the rear egress of the building.  Syrio put out his torch and hid it in a corner behind some crates.  They went out the back door and were in an alley.  Arya looked around at the buildings and breathed in the air of the city.  They were in King’s Landing proper now.  They walked on slowly not drawing any attention to themselves.  The sky was still dark but the east had the first hint of day lighting the sky.  Arya could see layers of smoke in the damp air.  It was like the high flowing clouds come down to Earth.  They moved from alley to alley.  This area seemed to be a residential area.  Arya and her party moved down roads between slightly drooping home fronts.

Arya looked on with big eyes from side to side.  She had never seen a city before from within.  She had ridden through King’s Landing to get to the Red Keep but had paid no attention to any particulars.  Her memory of the actual City from that day were hazy at best.  She had only eyes for the Red Keep and the mysteries it might hold.  Now Arya truly looked at the city that surrounded the Red Keep.  The plethora of homes and shops were almost bewildering.  They moved into a wider street and Arya saw that it seemed to be a street where furniture makers and makers of small wares worked.  The first shops being opened up and sleepy owners and workers lifting gates and putting out their wares to hawk.

The city was coming to life.

They took a side alley and then another.  This area felt older somehow.  The buildings crowded the narrow road here.  The buildings three to four stories tall with few windows.  The stucco falling off in patches.  The road had water standing on it from a rainfall of last night.

They came before a narrow door.  “We have arrived” Varys announced.  He went to knock on the plain door.

The door was opened.  A tall man in a blinding white robe of linen stood in the doorway.  His face had beard stubble that appeared to be three days old.  The man’s hair was a dark blonde and his eyes were dark green and had a bright intelligence to them.  He looked on the three visitors to his domicile.

“I see you have brought the wayward wolf and disgraced sword to me Varys.  I had dreamed of this coming to pass but never thought it would.  This wolf child is wild but she will be tamed by the dragon.”

Arya knew they were speaking of her but made no sense of what this tall man was meaning with his strange words. 

“That I have Merrel.  I had not looked to do this.”  Arya saw a sardonic grimace cross Varys face.  “I have been shown the error of my ways.  They have need of your unique talents.  They have need of your gifts that only you can bestow.  They mean to bring down a dynasty in the making.”

“Is that your goal Arya of House Stark?” the tall Druid asked her.

“I just want to free and save my father.  The realm can go fuck itself as far as I am concerned.  I do know my father is way more the man than any others I have seen.”  She looked back at Varys who returned her look without rancor or casting his eyes aside.

Merrel spoke up intervening in the contest of wills “You have come to me as I had hoped you would.  Almost all prophecies spoke of the Direwolves being put to riot and much death.  I hoped that the few that spoke of you would come to pass beyond all reason and hope.” 

“This is the beginning.  The new age is forming.  You are the catalyst Arya Stark.  In time the wolf and dragon will lie together as they should have a generation past.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Arya asked confused and a little vexed.  She was not sure how to take this _wolf will lie with the dragon_ talk.  What could that mean?

“In time you will see.”  The man turned to look at Varys.  “You want peace for the realm.  She is the key.  Will you serve?”

“I have been giving many reasons to serve Merrel” Varys grimaced looking askance at Syrio.  “I will serve.  I have waited for someone like Eddard Stark to come.  He just can’t get out of his own way.”

Arya felt her temper rise again at these constant jabs at her father.  She controlled herself.  Saving her father was tantamount to everything else.

“He is not the one.  But he will bring the one.  He and you Arya Stark.”

 


	5. Druid

Insurrection

Druid

 

Arya stood with her master as they looked at the tableau before them.  Varys was back to his implacable self with his hands enfolded in the sleeves of his robe.  The tale Druid looked from face to face.  Arya wondered what would happen next.

“Varys, remember I will be distributing your traitorous letters to my confidents.  They are loyal to me to a fault.  If I do not contact them at the agreed to times, Cersei will be receiving an interesting missive.  I also have your little personal diary.  I will be perusing it and I will decipher it.  We have many talents we First Swords.”

Varys made a sour face.  Arya loved seeing that expression on his face.  _Served him right_!

Syrio made hard eye contact with the bald eunuch.  “I want you to counsel caution to Cersei.  Your counsel will be to move slowly on any plans with Eddard Stark.  We both know her son is cruel.  I fully accept your assessment he will defy Cersei and have Eddard executed.  We will give you reasons to preach caution to Cersei.”

Varys gave them another sour face.  “I will perform my duties.  I do only want what is best for the realm.  The Lannisters are not best for the realm.”  Varys studied Arya.  “I do believe you should be Queen instead of your father King child.”

“Yeah right.”

“A shame.  You have the same foundation as your father but you know what to do when it needs to be done.”  He sighed.  “When do you need me back here Syrio?” Varys asked the Water Dancer in an aggrieved tone.

“Two nights hence.  Here at the third hour past midnight.  Will that be a problem?”

“No.  It will not be.  People only want my company when they have need of my services.”

“One last thing Varys.”

The man had started to leave.  He stopped looking back partially over his shoulder.

“I was First Sword.  I am at home in the hidden tunnels Varys.  If I sense any betrayal you will die.  Do I make myself clear?”

Another sour face crossed Varys face.  “I will not attempt to betray you Syrio.  It would seem we both want the same thing.  Hopefully, Eddard will learn from his past mistakes.  If not we will meet again under similar circumstances.”  The bald eunuch looked at Arya.  He held her eyes.  Then he was gone.

Syrio relaxed.  He looked at the Druid priest.  “I did not know your order still existed in Westeros.  I knew your order still exists in the forests of Qohor but not in Westeros.  I had read that your order had fallen with the Children of the Forest.”

“We came here with the first men when they came across the land bridge between Westeros and Essos.  We still live deep in those forest of Essos where always have.  We had a natural affinity with the First People.  We settled in the forests and mountain vales of Westeros that the Children of the Forest favored.  We bonded with the First People.  Their ways and ours intersected.  When the wars came we took their side.  We enjoyed the same demise when House Stark butchered us.”

Arya was shocked at that and her ire flared hot.  “THAT IS A LIE!” Arya screamed at the man pulling needle out.

The man eyed her sword.  “It would seem the same trait lives on.”

Arya started to scream another response.  She stopped.  His last sentence striking true.

“I don’t understand” Arya spoke softly showing her confusion.  We are a gentle, fair people.  Ask any of our subjects.  My father’s compassion has gotten him injured, captured and threatened with execution.  How dare you accuse my father of _such a thing_!” she finished in a scream again.

The Druid’s eyes did not waver from hers.  “You father is a great man.  If your past ancestors were like your father or yourself the Ice King would not exist.  The Ice King too is the fault of House Stark’s.

“You are fucking lying!” Arya snarled.

“I wish it was not so Arya Stark.  Our oral history is passed down from master to disciple.  We know the truths long forgotten, simply not written down or worse written falsely.  The victors always writes the history and puts themselves in the best light.  You family is like all families Arya.  Not all are as noble as your father or yourself.  Eight thousand years ago the First People were desperate with your family leading the forces of Men against them.”

“An ancestor of your lineage, Darick Stark, was a vile evil man.  He was captured by the Children of the Forest and changed into the Ice King through vile necromancy.  The First People were desperate as I have said.  They were dying because of House Stark.”

“OKAY!” Arya yelled.

“The First People should have known better.  You cannot control such a force. They created other Ice Wrights from vile men.  They thought they would be the excellent weapons to kill their tormentors.  Instead the weapon slashed both ways.  They created an evil far greater than what they faced.  The new Ice King killed all.  He hated all life and killed all equally.”

“So we are guilty of sins from eight thousand years ago?” Arya asked testily.  She felt great guilt at the sins of her family’s past.  For some reason she instinctively believed the man. 

“No child.  I merely wanted you to know.  I will help you father and yourself.  I will ask a price.  One with a steep cost.  I wanted you to know the true past so when I make my demand you will know why.”

“What is it?”

“I will not tell you.  I will only tell your father when he comes to me.”

“Why?  Because I am a woman?” Arya sneered at the man.

“Yes and no.  I could care less that you are a woman Arya.  But Westeros cares north of Dorne.  It is your father who will have to pay the price.  Therefore, I will tell him.”

Arya knew she would have to live with that.  She did not have any Crevasse pieces in an advantageous position.

Syrio had been silent.  “Merrel where are we in relationship to the Red Keep.  I need my bearings.”

“You are approximately one half mile north of the Red Keep.  We are just below the section called Flea Bottom.”

“Can we stay here for the next day or two Merrel?”

“You will be welcome in my humble abode.  You and Arya can stay here as long as you need.”

“You might not think so in a moment.  Arya and I must go out and kill some more Lannister Red Cloaks.  We need to sow more fear, uncertainty and doubt into Cersei and Joffrey’s Lannister’s heart.”

“It will be sunrise in less than an hour.  We are heading out.  I know the Regent will have heavy patrols out patrolling the streets to make sure all is under her control.  We will attack some of her patrols.”

“I see” the Druid answered.

“I know yours is a peaceful religion.”

The Druid left the room at that.  Arya looked at Syrio.  Had Syrio insulted the man?  They milled around in the room for several minutes. Arya really was starting to wonder if they had accidently upset the man.

The Druid came back out of the hallway he had disappeared down.  His blinding white robe was gone replaced with a dark brown one that went down to his sandals.  He had with him now a Yew wood long bow in his hand and a quiver on his back.  In his left hand was a crossbow and a pouch of bolts.  On his shoulders was draped a dark green travelling cloak.  “We were once a peaceful order.  We did not lift our hands against our attackers.  We were almost annihilated for it.  We have learned the errors of our ways.  This is a time of violence.  Violence that can usher in a better age.  I will fight beside you.  Your strategy is wise and your cause just.”

He handed Syrio the crossbow and the pouch of bolts.  There was a tapping on the left most window. 

Arya watched Syrio pull his rapier out in a lightning fast motion.  He swirled around to face the window in a defensive crouch.

The Druid smiled.  “Relax Water Dancer.  It is just an old friend. I have called him and he has come to answer my need.”  The man slowly walked to the window and unhooked the catch and threw the window open.  It was still dark though one could see the sky was beginning to light in the east.  Arya gasped seeing a huge raven sitting on the sill.  The bird had been beating on the lead window with its bill.  The bird look around with dark intelligent eyes.

The bird hopped in place and then flew to the Druid’s shoulder.  “Corn corn corn!”  The bird qworked.  The Druid reached up and petted the bird on its head.  The bird turning its head into the pats and obviously relished the affection.  “Corn Corn … wolf—destiny … the girl has come … come she has—destiny … corn corn!”  The druid reached into a pocket in his dark cloak and pulled out several kernels of corn and held them out in his palm.

The large raven pecked them up greedily.

“Corn … destiny now destiny now” the bird cawed out.  The Druid then feed the bird some more kernels.  The bird hungrily pecking them up.  The Druid then held out his forearm and the bird flapped down to it.  The human and bird made eye contact.  The bird looked intently at the Druid with his glittering eyes.  For half a minute the two maintained their staring contact of eyes.  The bird then hopped up and down on Merrel’s forearm.  The bird flexed down bunching itself.  It hopped up high and flapped his wings causing mighty currents in the confined space.

The bird pivoted in the air and in a fast blur flew back out the window.  The Druid followed in its wake like a leaf in the breeze.  He closed the window and locked it behind the departed bird.

Arya turned to look at her master.  Her eyes questioning.  Syrio shrugged his shoulders.  He had no idea.  He was a master of swords and whispers.

Syrio spoke up “Care to let us know what that was all about?”

“You want to attack Red Cloaks.  I have asked my friend to talk to his friends. They will find our Lannisters.  Are you hungry?”

The two nodded.  They had eaten the last of their food after leaving Vary’s room and walking down the tunnels.  They were still hungry.  The man set out on his table a loaf of bread, a quarter wheel of cheese and some raisins.  The Druid poured them a glass of water each.  They sat the table and ate at a measured pace.

The Druid looking at his two acquaintances with bright eyes.  Arya squirmed under the inspection.  To distract herself she turned to Syrio.

“When will you go to your accomplices and give them the letters that Varys wrote?”  She wondered why her master gave her a sly smile.

“I have no accomplishes in King’s Landing.  I had not been in King’s Landing long when your father’s path and mine stumbled across each other.”

“ _What_?!”  Arya exclaimed.  “Then why did we go through all that bullshit with Varys!”

“Arya” Syrio sighed.  “Will you start thinking before you start exclaiming?  Think.  What did we need?”

Arya closed her eyes.  She did not like the rebuke.  She thought.  She worked it around in her head.  She drew a blank.  “I do not know master.  I only know you lied to Varys.”

“Do you consider Varys a friend to House Stark?”

“What!  What a stupid question!”

“Do you lie Arya?”

“ _Never_!”

“Then learn Arya.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Your father needs to learn this lesson as well if he survives.”  He saw Arya’s dander starting to rise again.  He held up his hand.  “Arya it simply does not pay to be one hundred honest when you are dealing with foes.  I can almost guarantee that your father was totally honest and fair with Cersei.  Where is your father?  He is in their custody now child.”

Arya glared at the Water Dancer sulking.

“With Varys we needed more than just his word.  He does not want power or seeks glory like the Lannisters that is true.  I can see that plainly.  I do believe that in his own way he wants what is best for the realm.  The problem for us are his plans and means for achieving this “best” for the realm probably do not coincide with ours.  He would sacrifice us if he thinks we are not achieving the goals he has for bettering the realm.”

“Thus the lies child.  We had to put him under threat.  He is too crafty by half.  Fortunately, men like him are reviled for their work.  All rulers need men like him to make their rule more effective.  They need men and women who can ferret out the truth and discover their enemies’ plans.”

“To do this they must be in many ways duplicitous in their craft.  This makes them unsavory at best and vile at worst to rulers.  They are tolerated as a necessary evil.

“Varys knows he will never be loved by the people he helps to rule.  They will always be quick to believe that he has turned traitor.  Is he not himself constantly working to make others turn traitors to the people they serve or work for?  Your father found that out.  Varys may have tried to help your father after his fashion but when the winds of fortune changed he abandoned your father.”

“We all want to live Arya.  He is not a warrior like you and I.  We are willing to die for an ideal.  Most of our species do not.  Thus, the lie Arya.  He now has personal “skin” in the game.  He believes that if I die he dies.  That is very powerful motivator.”

“Merrel” Syrio called out to the Druid who had been listening to Syrio talk.  “I would ask that you keep the “confession” notes I had Varys write and his personal logs.  I do not have time to decipher them now.  I may have need of them later.  Especially that log.  I can only imagine the goodies in those reverse handwritten notes.”

The Druid chuckled.  “You sound like a Whisper yourself my dear Water Dancer.”

Syrio chuckled in return.  “To be a First Sword and to survive one must learn the craft of the spider and the ways of the whisperer.”

They ate their rest of their meal in silence.  Arya noticed the sky was beginning to lighten outside the window.

Soon there was a pecking on the window.  The Druid walked over to the window and opened it.  This time there was three ravens on the ledge.  They did not qwork this time.  They stared up at the Druid with an intense look that he returned.  After a minute he nodded his head.  The birds flew off with the loud flapping of wings.  The birds disappearing over the rooftops flying low and moving fast.  The man again closed his window.

“My friends report many patrols afoot in the warrens of King’s Landing.  It would seem that you two have stirred up a Lion’s den or maybe it is hornets’ nest.  They are walking up and down streets and searching all wagons and covered areas that are outside.  One patrol is heading towards the east end of Flea Bottom.  We will attack that one.”

“Why that one?” Arya asked.

Syrio sighed.  “Arya at least think before you blurt out your questions.”  He paused.  “No that is unfair.  I have only been teaching you the art of Water Dancing.  I must now also begin to each you the art of warfare.”

“What is the difference?”

“Combat is fighting and surviving against your fellow warrior.  Warfare is the application of tactics and strategy of how to fight the forces of your enemy and win.”

“We will be attacking the forces of the Crown around King’s Landing Arya.  We will not hit them in the same place twice.  We must move around and hit them were they do not look for us.  We must strike like the leopard.  The lions attack in mass and boldly charge in once they stalk near the prey.  The leopard must ambush from stealth.  They must be able to take their prey down quick and fast.  They do this alone.  We must be like the leopard.”

“Merrel, I think you know this city like the back of your hand.  Is this true?”

“Yes.  I have lived here for generations now.  I do know the city intimately.”

Arya caught the ‘generations’ statement.  How old was this man?  He only looked like he was in his early thirties at the most.

“Can you take us to this patrol from a position of strength?”

The man smiled at them with a feral smile.  “I have waited a long time to strike blows against the enemies of the world.  The Lannisters are a blight on the Earth.  They are self-absorbed and only hasten the decline of the Earth.  I hope that you two are the catalyst that starts to reverse this decline.”

Arya found herself liking this man more and more.  He seemed to have his sight set on more than personal gain.  He would prove a strong alley to her father. 

Arya paused in her thoughts.  A sudden insight occurred to her.  If she and Syrio were successful as she hoped they would be, the Lannister’s would be pulled down.  There could only be one ruler after that.  Her father.  Eddard Stark would be setting on the Iron Throne.  She had heard the story several times of how her father had turned aside from the Iron Throne when he marched into King’s Landing and found Jaime Lannister on the throne.  If only he had taken the throne then. 

The world would be a much better place.

“I know these warrens.  Come let us go.  My friends are watching all of King’s Landing as they fly over the city.  They will guide and ward us as we move about.”

“Are you a warg?” Arya asked the man.  She thought they were only located in the North though when she thought of that she felt conceited.   _Why would wargs only be in the North_?

“No Arya I am not a warg like you.  I communicate with the ravens.  They are very intelligent and receptive to those who know how to communicate with them.  They seek out those who are in tune with them.  I do not become one with them as you do with Nymeria.”

The mention of Nymeria put a thrill through Arya.  She missed her wolf terribly.  “Is Nymeria still alive?!” she blurted out.

“You tell me Arya” the druid told her.  “You would know it.  You are linked to your direwolf.  All of you are.  A part of Sansa died when she believed Lady was killed.  That was a crime indeed.”

Arya felt great remorse consume her suddenly.  Lady had paid with her life for the “sins” of Nymeria.  She was thankful for her wolf’s escape but mourned for the sweet Direwolf’s death.

After the pain faded Arya knew.  “Nymeria lives.”

“Yes she does.  As does Lady.”

“No” Arya said sadly.  “My father had to kill her to satisfy that harpy Cersei.  Gods I hate her!” Arya cried out hating the woman.

“Yes.  Cersei as she is, is quite despicable indeed.  Remember this Arya.  All is not as it seems.  I foresaw the possibility of you coming to me and changing history.  I have no desire to see your sister become a dark version of herself.”

Arya could only stare at this man.  What in the hell was he saying?  It was like he was trying to talk out of both sides of his mouth.

A thought hit her.  “Hey!  How do you know about me and my sibling’s direwolves if you have been in King’s Landing?” Arya asked suspiciously.

“As I have told Arya.  You have been foretold.  We have watched you and your family from afar.  We dared to hope that you would come to us.  You are the catalyst.  You will bring the Dragon to Westeros before she can be corrupted.  The Dragon and Direwolf will lie together.”

 _What the hell did that mean … the direwolf will lie with the dragon_? Arya wondered to herself.

“It is time to go” the Druid stood up.  “Let us go hunt and see how many lion pelts we can skin this fine morning.”

Syrio stood up and took the crossbow and sighted down the barrel of the weapon.  Arya had seen he was a good shot with her bow.  A crossbow was somewhat simpler to aim.  They gathered all their weapons.  She saw that the Druid had a bastard sword crossways on his back.  The blade handle not quite jutting off the opposite shoulder as her arrow quiver. 

The Druid handed them long dark brown traveling cloaks to put on to hide their weapons.  The cloaks allowing them to blend into their environs unnoticed.  They would just be one of the common rabble of King’s Landing.

Arya followed the two men out and they turned between two rows of buildings and entered into a wild warren of narrow alleys and streets.  Many of the rows of building only an arm’s length apart.  The buildings had few windows and only narrow doors.  The building usually two to three stories tall.  There was a sprinkling of buildings rising up to five stories in height.  The buildings had the look of some age to them but were generally well maintained. 

Where the buildings had some distance between them many small businesses had pitched tents over half of the small narrow passages.  They had setup small stalls to sell the day to day items the local citizens needed to live.  The small shops working out from under the tax collectors noses.  The underground economy vibrant and bright.  Arya smelled the first meals being cooked and prepared for the first patrons of the day.

Arya and her companions were unremarked.  The bows were unstrung and held close to their bodies as were their swords that lay hidden underneath their traveling cloaks.  None of the citizens of the warrens of King’s Landing had any use for the Iron Throne.  The last couple generations of rulers of the Iron Throne had seen to that.  To the citizens of King’s Landing Arya and her companions were one of the masses.

They moved on going down from on confusing narrow alley to the next. 

“Are you lost Syrio?” Arya asked her master.  She had long ago lost her bearings.

“No Arya.  I will teach you how to memorize landmarks and count steps.  If you are to become a true Water Dancer and potential First Sword you have much to learn.”

“I will never serve the Sea Lord!” Arya announced hotly to her master.

“Nor do I want you to Arya.  I only want you to develop all the skills of one.  You are capable.  I have much to teach you.  I had feared I would never find me a student capable of learning all I had to teach.”

Arya felt good inside hearing that.  She heard a loud caw and looked up.  Two Ravens were circling up above the alley they were currently walking down. The Druid looked up for a few moments.

He hurried his steps.  The moved between two rows of building along a narrow walkthrough.  They entered the fourth building.  They walked up a narrow stairwell that switched back until they went through a narrow door and were now on the roof of a four story building. 

The Druid motioned for them to bend down. They advanced to the edge of the building to a small retaining wall on the edge of the building.  A raven had landed on the row of building opposite their row of buildings.  Arya saw this must be a main road below capable of handling wagons moving in both directions.

The Druid whispered.  “There are at least forty red cloaks moving up the road.  They are harassing the locals.  They are accosting any they meet and disturbing the few vendors setup to hawk wares.  I had not realized there was so many.  There is another patrol my friends tell me moving in from the North.  They are only twelve.  We may want to let these past.”

“What say you?”

Syrio looked at Arya with a hawkish look.  Arya did not hesitate.

“Attack.”

Syrio smiled at her.  The Druid regarded her quietly.  “You are indeed the Direwolf given human flesh.  It is most appropriate that you got the alpha of the pack.”  They all removed their travelling cloaks and placed them on the roof top.  The druid pulled his bow off and strung it as Arya strung her much smaller bow.  One did not need a long bow to generate power with a well crafted bow.  Syrio wrenched his crossbow back.

“Let me take on anyone with armor” Syrio whispered.  Arya nodded.  They went to the edge of the building.  Two more ravens had alighted on the opposite buildings looking down.  Their heads bobbing in time with each other looking at the Lannsiters.

“Now” the Druid whispered.

As one the three stood up.  Arya immediately smiled.  The Lannsiters were below them off to the right.  They were in perfect firing position.  Below in their light armor were the Red Cloaks with two Sers with them to provide heavy armor support.  Syrio aimed his crossbow.  A loud clank was heard when Syrio pulled his trigger.  The crossbow jerked up releasing its bolt.

Arya watched the quarrel slam into the knight’s helm and pierced the metal.  The bolt sunk deep into the man’s skull killing the man instantly.  His body crumpled straight down.  Arya and Merrel released their bowstrings.  The strings letting out a soothing thrum.  Two Lannisters feel down with arrows jutting out their throats.  Syrio was furiously cranking back his crossbow.  Two more Lannisters fell dead with arrows to the throat.  The men below were in a riot of confusion seeing five of their number killed without warning.  Arya and the Druid had large quivers with thirty arrows in them.

Arya and the Druid began to fire rapidly.  Arrows whistling down.  Seven more men had dropped down with arrows through necks or upper bodies.  Syrio let loose with the crossbow again.  A Lannister fell over with a bolt in his stomach.  The other knight had hidden behind a stall knocking the woman manning it over as she crawled away fast.  Arya saw another of her arrows take a Lannister down with an arrow to the throat while Merrel found a man’s eye.

The Lannisters had no bowmen with them.  Arya and the Druid were firing fast after they drew a bead.  More Lannisters fell either dead or wounded.  The men were running around and hiding behind what cover they could find.  The knight came out to point up at them. He spun around when a quarrel hit him in the thigh knocking his legs out from underneath him.  His armored body clanging loudly on the hard ground.

The small patrol that the Druid had reported was coming up a side alley that Arya could see in the distance.  They had heard the combat and were running up the alley towards the battle.

Syrio called out “It is time to leave Druid.”

The man agreed.  They turned and put their travelling cloaks back on after situating their weapons to be hidden by the cloaks.  They settled everything down.  “Follow me.”  They did not move back down the stairwell.  Instead they moved down the line of building back away from the ledge.  Well out of sight.  They ran down the line of buildings.  Another line of buildings abutted up against this line of buildings at a thirty degree angle from an intersecting alley way.  They ran onto this line of buildings and ran down the buildings invisible to all but the ravens flying overhead.  They reached a red bricked building. 

They entered a small shack at the center of the roof and went down a narrow stairs.  They were soon walking down a crowded narrow alleyway full of vendors hawking wares and people moving about.  They had unstrung their bows and pulled their weapons close underneath their traveling cloaks.  They walked close to walls and stalls keeping heads bowed and walked calmly.  The vendors saw no potential sales and ignored them. 

They moved from alleyway to alleyway till they went up another stairwell and again they took to the rooftops.  Ten minutes later they were back at the Druid’s residence.

The lion’s nose had been bloodied yet again.

 

 


	6. Unsettled Pride

Insurrection

Unsettled Pride

 

Perfect cupid bow lips went up to the gold goblet and sipped the rich red wine.  The cup was swirled several times and then the lips again partook of the nectars of the gods.  Or whatever.  Cersei needed some relief.  How could everything have gone to shit so fast she wondered?

She looked over at Sansa acting demure and chaste. The child really was clueless thank the gods.  Telling Cersei of her father’s plans had been a godsend.  Cersei had in a way underestimated Eddard.  He had been passive with his dealing with her and she had been surprised when Sansa came to her and told her of his plans to bolt from King’s Landing and exposing her and Jamie’s supposed sins.

She worried her lower lip between sips.  She had to act fast as the Regent for her son.  Joffrey was not ready yet to take the reins of power.  She would run the Iron Throne while she taught Joffrey how to master the intricacies of rule.  She allowed her thoughts for a brief moment to wonder if Joffrey would ever be ready but quickly banished those thoughts.

He was to be King in both name and deed.  One day.

Yes.  She acted fast.  She fell upon the wolves before they even knew what was happening.  Even then they had given a good account of themselves.  They fought bravely but wolves always fall before lions.  It was the way of nature.

She looked again at Sansa Stark.  This one was definitely not a wolf.  She was timid and weak.  A trifling thing really when Cersei examined her closely.  She was a ravishing beauty to be sure.  She was taller than herself which she did not like but that was the roll of the dice.  Her auburn hair and deep blue eyes only enhanced the beauty of her facial features.  She was beautiful but not as beautiful as herself. 

Even after giving birth to three children she still retained her beauty.  What the child bearing had taken from her exquisite gowns hid.  She loved her children but cursed the stretch marks and taking away the firmness of her bosom.

She looked at the mild girl looking around with fear around the table.  She was not the Queen that was prophesized.   Sansa Stark was not a threat. 

She had once been happy to have Joffrey marry the girl.  She would have been a beautiful counterpart to Joffrey’s good looks.  They would have looked resplendent on the Iron Throne.  That plan had been dashed.

Sansa was now marked goods.  She would have to figure out what to do with trembling weak girl.  No one would want the scion of a traitor.

She was secretly thankful that Eddard Stark was so naïve and outright stupid.  He simply had no concept of the Game of Thrones.  He should have acted as soon as he knew the truth of her children’s lineage.  Why hadn’t he acted?  Was he that stupid?  He deserved his fate.  He would take the black.  Then she would be free of the Starks.  Robb would stay and be the Warden of the North.

She thought of Bran.  Her thoughts quickly raced on.  Why did that boy have to put his face in the window at that time?  Damn Jaime!  She had merely wanted him to bring the child in so they could put the fear of the gods into him.  It had not occurred to her that Jaime could be that cavalier.  She stopped and thought back a generation.  What was it that Doran and Oberyn felt when their dead niece and nephew were returned to them?  She wondered of the shock, anguish and hate that filled their breast.

Cersei took a big gulp of wine.  It was better to not think those thoughts.  She could never undo the past.

She knew what she had to do.  She had been given a prophecy when she was younger than Sansa.  Much of it had come true.  She would make sure that the rest never came to fruition.  As long as she was Regent she would make sure that the rest of Maggie the Frog’s prophecies never occurred. 

She would prove her wrong yet!

She would just have to stay in power.  Joffrey was weak.  She knew it.  She would control him and rule through him till the time came he was ready to actually rule.  Cersei stared off into space out the window high up the wall.  She sipped her wine again.

She had everything under control but for one very important factor.  Arya Stark.

The girl had disappeared.  What was worse was that she seemed to be leaving a trail of death behind her.  How!  How could a fourteen year old girl create such mayhem? 

She had sent the Kingsguard Meryn Trant to fetch the girl.  She had waited several hours for him to return with the other royal hostage she had sought.  He never came back.  She had been safely in her royal quarters with her children as her Red Cloaks swept the Red Keep clean of wolves.  They would capture Arya Stark and bring her back to her.  It had never happened.

She had received a double shock.  First it was reported that Meryn Trant and the Red Cloaks sent to pick up Arya Stark had been found.  All dead.  There had been no trace of Arya or of some charlatan sword instructor that Eddard Stark had hired to keep his wild child occupied.  She had heard how the girl had nearly run her youngest over chasing after cats.

The girl was definitely wild and feral.  She had shamed her eldest child with her prowess and power.  For a brief moment she remembered her childhood dreams of taking up the sword.  Her father had crushed that dream with ridicule and the belt.  She had not been able to sleep for days after the severe beatings he gave her for her impudence. 

It still galled her that Jaime was able to take up the sword and not herself.  She took another gulp of wine to soothe her distress.

She had tried to process that information when an even greater shock smacked her in the face.  There had been a small massacre in front of Arya’s quarters.  Seven Red Cloaks had been found dead in front and in Arya’s room.  The implication was clear.  First Meryn Trant and his Red Cloaks had been killed in the training room that Arya used.  Then they had gone to her room and killed seven more guards. 

 _How_?!  They were only two!  A charlatan and a young teenage girl of no account.  Sure, she was wild and untamed but that was all.  Wasn’t it?  How could they have done all that carnage?  The Red Cloaks spent the day and deep into the night constantly sweeping the Red Keep.  Arya and her charlatan had not been found.

The need to see and know had been too great for the Regent.  Cersei had gone out to see for herself.  Joffrey had announced he would stay behind and protect his brother and sister.  It was his duty to protect the royal lineage of House Lannister.

Cersei had first looked a Joffrey.  His cowardice galled her.  She was brave enough to step into the unknown.  He was a bleating sheep she sadly saw.  Again she suppressed her fears and doubts of her son.  He was first in line to the Iron Throne.  He was and the future king.  She would just have to maintain the regency until he was ready.

 _Would he ever be ready_? Her mind whispered to her cruelly.  Why didn’t the boy have her steel will and Jamie’s prowess?  The fates were most unkind.  She had dreamed that she and Jaime’s child would be a lion indeed.  She feared he would never be more than a jackal.

Cersei had walked down to the hall that Arya used to practice with her supposed sword master.  A man who fought with a child’s toy.  All knew the Braavosi were pansies.  They were not true knights like the men of Westeros were.  They had to be gay fighting with their stylized stances and little girl swords. 

She would have been a warrior with a broad sword and a yew wood bow!  Again she cursed her father and more so society that denied her what she longed for so much.  A sudden picture came to her mind of her with a powerful sword and … and one of Oberyn’s daughter’s as her-her-her wife!  Oh Helllll no!  _Where did that wayward thought come from_?  She shook her head again.  She had for a brief moment actually felt pure happiness. 

She needed a goblet of wine!

She had entered the room where Meryn Trant had met his demise.  She had not seen true combat up close like this before.  She steeled her resolve.  She imagined she was a Ser Knight walking upon the battlefield she had been a part of.  She saw the wounds.  The blood that was everywhere and the way the bodies had been partially dismembered by violent sword strokes.

Most of the bodies were stiffening their limbs locked in grotesque poses.  She felt her stomach roiling but she controlled herself.  She would not be weak.  She again could not stop herself from sneering at her son’s weakness.  _Protecting his siblings_.  She harrumphed to herself.

She walked to Arya’s residence.  On the way she came across another unexplained scene of death.  Three Lannister’s cut down.  Again no evidence of the attackers.  It would seem as the attackers escaped unscathed.  What kind of warriors were this?  Arya could not have been creating this kind of mayhem.  One man could not commit so much carnage.  Then she reached Arya’s room.  There she found seven dead men.  The scene was the same as the other scenes. 

Her men cut down savagely and again no evidence that any harm was done to the perpetrators.  She moved from man to man and saw the mostly head or throat wounds.  Even she could see the skill of the attackers.  She was shown how one of the bodies in the way it was orientated was killed by the person in the room.  This body had wounds in the torso.  Who was most likely in that room?

Only one name came to Cersei’s mind.  Arya Stark.  Could this slip of a girl have taken down a Red Cloak? Surely not.  She looked back down on the dead body as she left room.  No.  It was not possible.  Was it?

She was lead to one more scene.  This one was different.  Now arrows had come into the mix.  Three of the men had arrows in their throat and head.  Another man had an arrow in his stomach with a sword wound to the neck.  Even Cersei could see what happened her.  An arrow to the stomach, the man leans over and another man comes up to finish the man.  The last man had been killed by a sword wound alone.

Cersei was most disturbed by this murder scene.  Arya had been partial to the bow.  The girl always wanting to practice in the courtyards.  Cersei saw the white and grey fletching of the arrows.  The color of House Stark.  Her eyes told her what had happened but her mind argued with her that it was not possible.  Surely this was not the work of a fourteen year old girl.

How could Sansa be so docile and timid and her sister play the proverbial wolf.  Cersei shivered at the implications.  She found a small part of herself she could never admit to was extremely envious.  Arya was a wolf and struck like one.  Those men had been taken down fast and furious without remorse.

Part of that called to Cersei.  To be powerful and vicious in combat.  It was like a Siren’s seductive song calling sailors to their deaths around the maelstrom. 

She knew who had fired those arrows.

She had gone back to the throne room.  She had sent out even more heavy rotations of sweeps throughout the Red Keep.  She would have to keep Eddard Stark close to her in the royal quarters and not sent to the dungeons till Arya was secured and her ‘sword master’ killed.

Then the news had only gotten worse.  The next day the attacks started.  She was sending out patrols into King’s Landing looking for the wolf girl.  The Red Keep had been swept again and again but no trace of Arya Stark and her accursed sword instructor had been found. 

She closed all the gates to the City.  She had patrols doubled on the curtain walls looking down for the Stark seeking escape.  She flooded the City with patrols.  Surely the girl and her sword instructor had to be desperate and on the run.

Varys had come to her with not much to report.  He reported that his sparrows had not seen or heard anything of the Stark girl.  Surely a lot of Stark men must have avoided her snares and somehow found the wolf girl and were on the loose.  Varys told Cersei that he recommended they delay the transfer of Eddard to the dungeon.  This reinforced her earlier decision to not yet move Eddard.  She would keep him alive but no more.  She needed him weak and docile.

He had more news on that front.  A patrol had been sent to the dungeons at the end of the second day.  The Jailer had disappeared along with five of his security detail. When he had reported that to Cersei she had blanched.  Where the hell had this girl not been!  She knew instinctively this too had been Arya’s doing.  She had gone seeking her father!  The sheer bravery staggered the Lannister.  She had even more reason to keep Edward near her till she quelled this nascent Insurrection. 

She sent her Red Cloaks flooding down to the dungeons.  The report from the men was that they had found nothing of great import.  They did report one thing though.  There was evidently a tunnel and stairs from the dudgeons that led to an underground river.  It looked abandon but they had found traces blood.  Maybe there had been a battle fought there.  They could not be sure.

Cersei knew.  Arya had gone to the underground labyrinth like some patron seeking transport across the River of Death.  She had then fled.  Damn her eyes!

Only she had not fled.  Within hours a report had reached her from King’s landing.  A large patrol of her troops had been ambushed from the rooftops of the buildings.  Eleven men had been killed along with four severely wounded.  The attack by arrows.  She had been brought some of the arrow shafts broken off the dead Lannisters as per her orders.

She ground her teeth with what she saw.  She again saw the grey and white fletching.  She was now the hunted.  The audacity!  The girl was bold by half too much.  How dare her!  The wolf did not take the Lions of Lannister down.  It seemed that Arya had more allies.  There had been a long bow used she was told. She could see these arrows was longer and thicker than Arya’s arrows.  The kills had been roughly split but two of the men were killed by crossbow bolts.

Joffrey had come in while Cersei was being shown the evidence.  He was loudly proclaiming that if he had been present he would have put an end to this small Insurrection.  He only wished he was not tied down to the Red Keep.

Cersei rolled her eyes behind her son’s back.  Sansa was sitting at her table looking down but she saw the slight smile.  The bitch was enjoying this.  She would get her revenge on the cunt soon enough.  She just needed to focus on the current situation.  She had wanted to capture the girl as a hostage but now she was strongly considering having Arya put down.

A Captain came crashing into the room.  She was about to rebuke the man but the look on his face stopped her.  He bowed to Joffrey and then Cersei.

“My King—regent …” the man took a breath to calm himself.  “Some of our men have been relaxing at The Demon Grape Inn.  They were viciously attacked.  We are still not certain what exactly happened.  Many were killed with arrows and more were viciously cut down by a sword.  We have lost eleven dead and five wounded.  They were attacked from above and from the kitchen area.  Some man was among our troops.  He moved so fast he could not be followed they say.”

Cersei had some of the arrows brought to her.  She saw the white and grey fletching that Arya Stark used.  The other arrows came from a longbow and had the yellow hawk fletching.   Who the fuck was this swordsman!

Varys had reported to her now that his name was Syrio Forel.  Eddard Stark had evidently found him in King’s Landing and hired him to teach Arya.  The man was most definitely not a fraud.  What kind of man was this that could take down a Kingsguard _and_ six Red Cloaks?  Damn Eddard Stark for indulging Arya Stark and her childish dreams of being a swordsman. 

 _You did not indulge a girl in her desires to take up the sword_!  Cersei had learned that lesson the hard way from her father.  More than once.

That had been four days ago.  The attacks had continued and were savaging her forces mercilessly.  The first two days the attacks had come in the morning.  The attacks were to the north and east of the Red Keep.  The attacks from the rooftops.  Yesterday the attack had come at noon only two blocks from the Red Keep!  That had cost her eight troops.  Three hours later the next attack had come ten more blocks distant.  That attack had cost her twelve more troops dead or wounded!

She had her patrols running down thoroughfares.  The attack yesterday had been in the late afternoon as the shadows started to form like long broken ghosts down the streets.  This one had been near Visenya hill.  The men had been trudging up the hill when they were hit from three sides.  They had lost ten men.

Her men were starting to show fear.  They were claiming that they were fighting a company of Stark men.  They were fighting mighty Goblins from the distant past.  Vampires had sided with the Starks and were wrecking vengeance on the House of Lannister.

Joffrey had been ranting that if only he could meet the enemy on the field of battle he would annihilate them to the last man.  When Cersei told him that Arya was part of the attacking pack he had laughed hard.

“Mother!  That is impossible.  All men know women cannot fight. You may as well ask the stars to come down to Earth.  It takes a mighty male warrior such as myself to defeat these craven heathens.”

“Okay.”  Cersei smiled with thin lips when Joffrey stopped swirling his bastard sword in the air.

“What mother?” Joffrey asked his mother perplexed.

“Okay.  You are king.  Our troops are frightened and in need of their king stepping to the forefront and confronting these Stark men.  You will show them how a true Warrior King fights.”

Cersei had enjoyed seeing her blowhard braggart son wilt like the lilies toiling in the field underneath the noonday sun.

The room had just Lannisters in it.  Cersei with Joffrey and various commanders of her Red Cloaks.  The men in charge looked askance at Joffrey.  Cersei saw that these men had the true measure of her son.

Her son’s fair skin had gone deathly pale.  He started to shake slightly.  A sheen of sweat appeared on his upper lip and forehead.

“Mother … I – I … I can’t go now.  I need to get myself fitted with a true broadsword.  Yes.  That is right.  I need a full sword to meet these enemies.”

Joffrey regained his regal bearing.  “Capt. Graceford I need for you to make that happen.  The sooner this is done the sooner I can put this insurrection down.  I command it!  Let it happen!”

The man bowed low to the King.  He turned to Cersei.  His face was carefully controlled his true thoughts hidden.  Cersei tilted her head.  She sighed softly.

How could a scion of Jaime Lannister be such a complete waste?

At that moment another man burst in. 

“My regent!  Some of our men were on the Silk Road at the Juicy Plum.  We are not sure exactly happened but seven of our men are dead.  Most with slit throats.”

“Damn!” Cersei shouted.  _What the hell was going on_?  How could Arya attack from so many places?  It was if someone was guiding them who knew the City like the back of their hand.  They only attacked when they had the total advantage.  It was like they had eyes in the sky!

Varys had finally discovered who this Syrio Forel was.  The man had been the First Sword of Braavos.  This had of course meant nothing to Cersei.  She had cocked her eyebrow at the cockroach.  A spider was too good a description of the man. 

She loathed the man but he was too valuable to her.  If she was ever in a position to dispose of the man she would do it in a heartbeat.  She did not feel she could trust the man.  He had not helped Eddard Stark it was true but she knew instinctively it was not done out of love for Cersei or House Lannister.

“So what exactly is this First Sword of Braavos?” Cersei asked the eunuch.

“That is hard to explain my regent.  In Braavos you have fierce competition to become the best sword in all of Braavos.  When a man accomplishes this they come into the employee of the Sea Lord of Braavos.  This is the equivalent of our king on the Iron Throne.  They rule the whole of that city state.

“The person who becomes the First Sword has survived a vicious winnowing process.  The best rise to become second swords.  They always number twenty.  When one is killed they are replaced.  They are like the wolves of the Stark Lands.”  Cersei ground her teeth.  She was sure that Varys words were carefully chosen. _Damn the man_.

“You can only go up in the wolf pack of Braavos.  These twenty men are constantly practicing their physical skills but also learning the arts of the assassin, the skills of the doctor.  They learn the tactics of the captain and the strategy of the general.  They are knowledgeable in the full history of the land of Essos.  They learn philosophy and the arts to teach the Sea Lords culture.  They are to be everything that a Sea Lord might need in any given situation or circumstance.  They are the Kingsguard, the Grand Maester and the highest general all in one person.”

“How the hell is such a man in Westeros?  In King’s Landing?!  Who would let such a man go?”  Cersei could not understand it.  From what she was hearing, this man was a one man army and he was fighting her!  She took a calm breath.  She needed a drink.  She walked over to a carafe in a bowl of ice.  She poured herself a full goblet of red wine.  She took several long drinks of dark red powerful ichor.

Varys reported that the Sea Lord that this Syrio Forel had served had been disposed.  With the Sea Lord’s fall so fell his First Sword.  One was tied to the other.  Now this First Sword was in King’s Landing.  In service to Arya Stark.

“What do we do mommy?” Joffrey asked.  He was frightened of this man too.  Good.  It would keep him from having further diarrhea of the mouth.  Gods she wanted to smack Joffrey sometimes.

Cersei groaned to herself.  Not only was Arya a rabid wolf, her sword master was some demon warrior from hell.  She needed to get Eddard away from herself in case they came for him.  The gods knew what might happen if they had access to the Red Keep.

“Varys?”

“Yes regent?”

“I want Eddard Stark put in the dungeon.  I want him fed gruel and water.  I want him weak.  The last thing I need is him recovering and having him somehow becoming a pain in my ass.  Of course this will be done under the heaviest guard.  I want to have over fifty Red Cloaks down in those dungeons guarding that man at all times.

“Is that needed?”

“Are you questioning me spider?  You know what the female black widow does to the males that come into its web don’t we Varys.”

The man calmly put his hands into the open ovals of his robe to grasp his forearms.

“I know most assuredly Regent Cersei.  I have no wish to be consumed my highness.  I wish to merely serve the realm.”

Cersei snorted.  “Go and do my will.”

“You mean my will don’t we mother?” Joffrey barked.

Cersei sighed.  Her son was discovering he had spine again she saw.  Gods.

“Of course Joffrey.  I am sorry.  I always mean your will in what I do when I give commands in your name my precious son.  I just want to make sure that we keep Eddard Stark under our control.  With Arya on the loose we need to keep him alive and in our control.  Once we have captured her we can then dispense justice on Eddard Stark for his treason.”  Joffrey did not catch the slight sneer Cersei could not fully suppress from her voice.

“Why can’t we go ahead and punish him now!” Joffrey whined.

“Joffrey dear” Cersei told her son in placating tone “we need to keep Eddard nice and safe and away from Arya Stark.  We need to keep him alive.  The girl is killing our troops all over King’s Landing.  What do you think she will do if we harm her father?”

Her son had grown large eyes now.  He gulped.  He was back to being docile again.  Good.

What really scared Cersei was how the girl was in two places at once.  Cersei had sent a search party down the underground river underneath the dungeons of the Red Keep.  She had wanted to know where Arya fled too from the dungeons.  They had sailed down the river in a boat.  The three men had not returned.  She had then sent out a boat with fourteen well-armed men.  They had been on high alert.  The boat had many torch holders with lit torches to illuminate the dark.

That had been yesterday late morning.  The men and boat had disappeared as well.

What the hell was going on!  How could the girl and her small band be killing her forces all over King’s Landing?  It was impossible.  Her forces were suffering heavy losses with nothing to show for it.

She had Varys pick the most loyal Gold Cloaks and was pressing them into the patrols in King’s Landing.  One Janos Slynt proved most pliant.  She would bring her Red Cloaks back into the Red Keep. 

Cersei drank several more big gulps from her goblet.

She felt a fierce headache coming on.


	7. Goading the Lion

Insurrection

Goading the Lion

 

Arya smiled as she walked along beside Syrio.  It had been another successful hunt for her wolf pack as she now thought of her and her companions waging their personal campaign against the Lannisters and now Gold Cloak.  It was really not fair in a way.  Just the way she wanted it.  The minstrels could sing songs of the noble knight calling out the cade knight and fighting in the middle of the main thoroughfare in the city.

Not Arya.  She wanted to live and give maximum distress to the Lions she hunted.  The ravens made it all possible.  They were blanketed all over King’s Landing now.  The Druid Merrel’s raven calling in his friends who avidly did his bidding.

Corn, as Arya called the raven of Merrel.  The bird always demanding corn when he flew into the man’s domicile.  The bird was quiet pecking on the window and only started to make his raucous vocalizations when inside.  The bird was obviously intelligent.  The bird would lock eyes with Merrel and she knew they were communicating.  It made her miss Nymeria so much.  She was just starting to learn to truly communicate with her Direwolf when she had to send her away.

She sometimes remembered that injustice when she let loose an arrow that pierced a Lannister or Gold Cloak’s eye, mouth or throat. Then she would remember Lady and her cruel death.  Another man went down crumpling with an arrow ending his life. Then she remembered her father’s heinous injury.  More death flew down to the Regent’s forces.  Sansa imprisoned.  Foe dead.

For fifteen days they had been running amok among the forces loyal to the boy king.  Arya snickered seeing that the little shit was never leading any of the patrols.  Not that she was surprised.  The boy who would be king was a spineless worm.  You had to have a backbone to be a warrior.  Joffrey was just a shit.

She killed her enemies day and night.  Syrio was constantly varying the times of their attack.  He had found a map of King’s Landing.  It was detailed to the general layout of the City.  Merrel knew the warrens intimately.  Syrio would constantly ask Arya where they should attack next.  To begin with she had not thought before she answered.  She was almost flippant like most teenagers are at that age.  She would point to a spot on the map.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.  I like the name Visenya Hill.”

Syrio had given her that look that shamed her.

“Arya this not a game.  We are killing men.  They will kill us in service to what they have given allegiance too.  We are playing the Game of Thrones Arya.  You are my disciple now.  I need you to focus and learn.  You are fourteen now and a woman flowered.”

That made Arya blush hotly.  She was indeed a woman flowered.  A woman who desired only her own sex in her bed.  She was silent about that.  She had hidden her desires thinking she was alone.

She now knew she was not alone anymore.  With the new arrivals she had accidently been enlightened.

“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt.  Arya you need to learn more than the sword to be worthy of being a First Sword.  You must master warfare.  We must be like an eel to our enemies.  Slippery and always falling through their fingers.  This is how we live to fight another day and that our enemies die.  Let them die for their cause.  We want to live and therefore win the fight and in time the battle or Insurrection.

Arya had looked at the map again.  Seriously this time.  Syrio had put little pins in it.  The pins set to mark past attacks.  He was constantly selecting new target areas in the city.  He had twice revisited past strike sites.  “Keep them guessing.  Make them like Mere cats.  Their heads always twisting.”  Her next selection she could defend with logic and give Syrio reasons for her selection.

He had asked her probing questions that made her think and reason out her assumptions.  In this way Syrio taught his disciple reasoned thought.

Yes.  Arya was learning much.  When Syrio was not teaching her the basics of tactics he was helping Arya to start developing an overarching strategy.  He was teaching Arya to see the “big picture” and develop tactics and plans to achieve the desired end goal. 

Their current strategy to constantly seek engagement with the enemy from points of advantage.  Strike the enemy fast, hard and then disappear.  Make casualties on the enemy.  They did not have the forces to defeat the Lannisters.  Their goal was to hurt them with losses and sow fear.

Fear that would make them hesitate.  They were succeeding.  Varys had reported on his regular visits that Cersei was angry and confused by the strikes on her forces all around King’s Landing.  She was furious that all the ambushes they laid were avoided and their forces hit where they did not expect it.

The ravens made this possible.  The birds constantly patrolled the sky over King’s Landing.  Their keen vision watching all the movements of Cersei Lannister’s forces.  Their intelligent minds able to focus on what their master’s needed them to.  The Lannister forces were tracked and when they went into buildings birds would stake out the buildings keep them under surveillance till the Lannisters left.  This all was constantly being reported back to their Druid familiars.

They had finally moved her father to the dudgeons.  He was under very heavy guard with two whole companies in the tunnels and the immediate environs above the dudgeons.  Close to four hundred men.  He was not going to be rescued from there.  Arya and her allies simply did not have the manpower to accomplish a rescue against that kind of force.  They would have taken to many losses and the time necessary would put her father’s life in danger.

This was good.  It reduced the forces available to the Regent to use as patrols in the streets in King’s Landing.  Varys reported that Cersei had sent a raven to Casterly Rock explaining to her father the need for more forces.  There were some Starks leading an Insurrection in King’s Landing.  Varys told Arya she had not told her father that Arya was leading the revolt.

“He would not believe it anyways” Varys had told them.

Syrio had resumed her training.  He had her doing her exercises.  He had worked her hard before but he had her running in place now for up to twenty minutes and then doing calisthenics immediately afterwards.  It increased her endurance greatly.  She did not complain.  They were constantly running to and from ambush sites.

 She was doing her balance routines staying on one foot for long minutes and only jumping to her other foot to repeat.  He had put X’s on the floor in two rooms that Merrel had emptied out the furniture for them.  Syrio had Arya memorize putting her feet on the X’s in whatever pattern he would call out.  He was teaching her basic fighting steps for various defensive and offensive attack stances. 

He would have Arya with a wooden practice broadsword or with Needle now and he would call out “High high right left right right left back back low high”.  He repeated her steps again and again.  He did this to engrain and to form muscle memory.  Then Syrio would move and give calls telling her when he would attack and from what side.

He would go right and then attack left.  Arya easily blocked.

“Good Arya.  You learn fast my student.  You concentrate and the practice on your own to learn each new technique.  I had to force my other students to do what you on your own.  You understand skill only comes from hard work.  Only with practice can you improve.  Never forget, remember that.  Not an action, not a name not a face.  It will save your life.  Make forgetting impossible.”

“Yes master.”

It was no longer just the two of them.  The deadly duo had become a virulent mob.  Rabid wolves killing weak Lannister lions.

They had started to drift in the third day.  A druid had come to Merrel.  He was short and dark of complexion.  He had a weirwood bow and long arrows.  As he stood before the door lintel a raven came down to his shoulder and rubbed its head in his neck before taking off.  On the man’s hip a bastard sword.  Arya understood that each Druid had his own familiar.

Then the next day three more Druids had come.  These were two men and a woman.  They came with the ubiquitous bow.  Arya saw these Druids primary weapon was the Bow and the blade instrument was only for self-defense if necessary or the ambush required them to get close and personal.  These druids seemed to be of the Stormlands or maybe Highgarden by lineage.

Over the next week twice more Druids had come to Merrel’s home.  They had come two by two.  Three were men but another was a woman.

This increase in force had allowed them to split into two groups and now attack the forces of the crown in two locations at the same time if desired.  They had done that once but usually attacked at different times.  The goal to always keep their enemies off balance.

Their attack today though had been an attack with their combined efforts.  The Lannisters had started to run mounted knights up and down the main streets.  The heavy armor immune except for the strongest bows and most direct hits on or finding of weak joint points.  Syrio asked Arya to come up with a strategy to defeat this new tactic.  He helped Arya reason out the goal and then guided her on developing tactics to defeat this new tactic of their enemy.

The next day the plan Arya and Syrio had developed was implemented.  The ravens allowed them to setup the proper spot for their ambush.  The forces waited patiently for the force of the Regent to spring the trap.

Arya and Syrio had been on ground level a hundred yards in front of the fifteen mounted knights when they stepped out into the middle of Garwood Lane.  The two insurgents had bows.  They shouted their defiance to the crow and let loose their arrows.  They rapidly fired arrows at the knights that had bounced off their armor.  The knights had immediately yelled and charged.

Syrio and Arya ran down the street for ten yards and went left down a slightly smaller street that ran crossway to the main thoroughfare.  The long alley went to dead end after a few turns.  The knights were yelling knowing their prey had been run to ground.  The horse’s hooves pounding the hard impacted dirt sending up little geysers of dirt clouds.  The knights spurring their horses to increase their speed to hopefully run down the two traitors.

The horses angled over to go around the corner.  The knights bunched together in their haste to kill the two interlopers.  They would be well rewarded in bringing the Queen their heads.  They had orders to capture the girl, if the girl who was dressed as a boy was present if at all possible.  They had decided it would not be possible.  She had killed too many of their compatriots.

The lead horses started to accelerate down the new lane.  The lead horses were suddenly tripping over screaming in fear and pain.  In the haste to run down the two traitors no one, horse or man, had noticed the two one inch hemp lines side by side that were securely tied between posts holding up balconies on each side of the street.  The horses hitting the first rope line with their knee joints. 

Legs were shattered and the horses toppled over screaming.  Four horses had their legs broken with two horses cartwheeling over the lines their knights flying off their saddles.  The two other horses spun around to avoid the ropes but toppled over crashing to the ground shattering their riders leg trapped between a ton of warhorse and armor and the hard ground.  The men joining the horses screams.

Many in King’s landing had no use for the despotic rule of Robert Baratheon.  The poor had been treated like shit while the royals feasted and had their tourneys.  In the confusion, milling knights and screaming war horses did not notice three more lines being pulled tight and tied off on posts behind their party.  The people in the neighborhood hurriedly pulling the ropes taught and then tying off the ropes.  The persons disappearing as if mist evaporating with the sun’s rays.  They would spend their gold dragons tonight at the tavern and brothels.

The insurgents would take the full blame for the ambush.

Arrows were now raining down from above on the rooftops.  The nine druids firing their longbows of yew or Weirwood.  Their long shafts whistling down.  The knights had high quality steel for their plate armor.  The long bows even at this range was not able to deeply penetrate the armor.  Soon the knights milling around had arrows jutting out their armor like a newborn porcupine. 

The knights were wheeling around in a milling confusion.  They were shouting over each other.  One of the knights that had been thrown from his horse was knocked out. The other knight struggled up to his hands and knees.  His body hammered down by three arrows hitting his back.  The arrow tips only slightly, partially penetrating the armor but the force of the point blank range had the arrows striking with the force of sledgehammers. 

Arya had hidden crouched behind a water trough.  She witnessed the knights wheeling around twenty yards in front of her.  Her bow was notched and ready to be fired at a moment’s notice.  She saw a knight with the Lannister heraldry on his horse and a large red bird plum on his visor.  He was yelling mightily and looking wildly right and left trying to gauge the whereabouts of his enemies.  His body was hit with long bow arrows that lodged in his armor.  The force stunning the man. 

Some of the knights tried to retreat but the raised ropes had the horses shying away.  A horse stumbled and then fell to its knees with two arrows jutting out its rump.  It jolted up screaming in pain and began to buck.  Arrows continued to fly down and strike knights and hit the horses.  The horses’ armor was nowhere as thick or made of the high tensile strength of the knight’s armor.

The man with the red plum lifted his visor to try and see better the lay of the battlefield.  He looked up around at the rooftops.  He saw the bowmen standing on the roof edges firing on them.  He lowered his head to give orders. 

This was the moment that Arya had been waiting for.  Her arrow left her bowstring with a loud thwang and whistled the short distance to the knight.  The man was thrown off the horse the arrow penetrating his right eye instantly killing the man. 

More knights had been dismounted and horses were collapsing as their bodies were riddled with arrows.  Most of the knights had arrows jammed into armor.  The arrows striking the chest and limbs of the knights stunning and in some cases breaking bones.  The repeated strikes to the helms had most of the knights concussed now. 

Syrio ran out to the first knight that had been rendered unconscious and slipped his rapier between the slats of the visor penetrating his eye killing the man.  The other knight thrown off his horse had been rendered unconscious with repeated strikes of arrows to his head.  Syrio killed him the same way.

The knights were in total disarray now.  The knights with their wits still about them had cut the three ropes hemming in their retreat.  The three knights still a horse spurred their mounts and fled the field of battle.  They all had arrows sticking out of their armor from the arrowheads that had partially penetrated their armor.  Arya counted fourteen arrows sticking out of one of the knights.  The other knights were mostly dead or rendered unconscious from repeated strikes to their helms concussing the men.  She saw one knight with arrows in his armor that would constrict his arm movements. 

Arya felt elated. That changed in a moment.  She spied a dismounted knight running down the covered walkway of wood slats.  He was running straight at her!  His heavy sabatons striking the wood.  He had four arrows jutting out his breast plate.  Arya noticed that one arrow would keep his right hand from sweeping to the left.  His spurs jingling with each stop.  Arya’s eyes were wide open.  She dropped her bow and arrow and fumbled to pull Needle out. 

Arya squatted her adrenalin rushing through her veins preparing her to meet the charge of the knight.  Arya jerked back when three arrows hit the knight in rapid succession flinging him hard into the side of the building.  He staggered and levered himself up.

Syrio was past her in a flash and confronted the knight.  His rapier lunged and partially penetrated his chainmail links protecting his throat.  The man staggered back chopping at the water dancer.  Syrio was like smoke.  First here and then there.  His body gyrated to twist and turn slippery like an eel.  Three times Syrio avoided a slashing swipe from the knight.  Syrio would lunge forward his rapier point piercing the thin metal at the elbow joint of his opponent.  The two men circled each other.

After the third strike Arya could see blood seeping out the joint and forming thin streams of blood that wiggled down his armor.  The knight was no longer attacking Syrio.  Arya glanced out into the street.  Arrows were still whistling down striking the knights crawling around seeking some kind of cover.

Arya saw the back of the knight.  She ran forward and just before she reached the knight she twisted her body and her left shoulder slammed into the man’s back.  The knight sprawled forward with Arya rebounding off his armor.  The rebound flung her out into the street to land on her side and rolled up to her feet.

She saw Syrio flip the knight over.  The man having dropped his sword.  Syrio jerked the man’s visor up and his rapier jammed down the point piercing his eye. The man had just started to lift his arms in defense but they dropped dead weight his brain squired clear through.

Syrio looked out at the prostrate knights.  From a rooftop of a three story building Arya and Syrio heard a tall female Druid call out.  “Lannisters are coming from the east up Causeway Parkway.  They are still about twenty blocks away.  They are a company of men” announced Kiren.  Each Druid had their own Raven.  It seemed each raven had its own small flock.  With nine Druids now in league with Arya the ancient mystics had pretty much full coverage over King’s Landing.

“We need to go Arya” Syrio told Arya.

“We need to kill these knights Syrio.  We need to weaken Cersei as much as possible.  You know this!”

“Of course I know this Arya.  Still.  We are tired now and I can assure that our Druid allies have shot off most of their arrows.  We need to flee”’ he told Arya calmly.

Arya ground her teeth.  Now that her blood had cooled just a fraction.  She was glad that Syrio was calling them off.  She had no desire to kill men who were helpless with the battle won.  Most of them would be out of the fight for some time.  She had seen men concussed that took them weeks and sometimes months to recover.  The men who had horses fallen on them would be like her father.  Cripples.  Those kicked by wild, angry or fleeing horses probably had badly bruised limbs or maybe even broken.  Some of those arrow strikes on limbs and sternum had probably broken the bones. 

Yes these men were done as a fighting force.

She ran with Syrio down into a side street and then into the warrens of King’s Landing.

/////////

The forces of the Wolfpack slowly filtered back to the flat of Merril.  He seemed to have taken the whole first floor of the building over.  He confirmed this to Arya when she had asked him this.  He had over several decades bought more and more of the building.  In actuality he owned all stories of the building.

Arya had eyed the man.  He did not look old enough to have done that over decades.

“Why are you in this place?  I have gathered that you Druids are a people of the forest and the glen.”

The Druid had acknowledge that.  “Yes.  My place is in the forest that is true.  My clan lives in the depths of what you call the Kingswood.  Our main hamlet is at the headwaters of the Wendywaters.  We live a simple life living off the land.  Living in harmony with the land.  The area at the headwaters are piedmont and we have hidden our community in those folds. In all the great forests you will find us.”

“We also live in the high mountain passes and the hidden valleys that exist in those lofty heights.  We seek to commune with nature away from men such as yourself Arya.  We are also in the Barrowlands and the Sandhills.   In the North you are much closer to the land but still you have forgotten how to live in harmony with it.  It was your house that was instrumental in our downfall.”

Arya frowned.  It pained her hearing that her House had ever been anything less than heroic.  It galled her.  She felt soiled.

Merril seemed to see this in her face.  He placed his hand on her shoulder gently.

“That was many millennium ago Arya.  Your House has a chance to undo so much harm and damage.  We have waited so long for Eddard Stark and one other to come to Westeros.  The Direwolf and Dragon will restore order to the world.  They will help to restore nature and bring peace between man and the Children of the Forest.”

“You are the catalyst Arya” the man had told her.  He had refused to be any clearer.  _Damn bastard_ Arya had groused to herself.  Gods she hated those who supposedly portended the future.

The man had told Syrio that he was surprised that they had come to him actually.  The portents said that she would flee this land and go to the House of Black and White and become its avatar.  That the Druids would have to wait for another.  Merrel had hoped Arya would not flee.  She had not.  Now all was possible he had told Syrio.  Arya had felt her chest swell when Syrio relayed this to her.

Her mind snapped back to the present.  “But we realize that the future of Westeros lies in the major power centers.  Those are not in the woods but here in cities like these.  I have been here listening and waiting.  We have made alliances were we could.  Varys is a man with his own agenda but he is fair man in his own way.  He desires peace and stability as do we.”

“He does not believe in our prophecies and beliefs but he knows our desire is harmony and peace throughout the land.  He saw the possibilities and took them.  Also, I am sure you would have killed him otherwise.”  The man had chuckled at his own gallows humor.

The man had been spot on.

Arya had drifted to a back room.  In it were two women.  One was an immigrant from Myr.  She had the dark olive skin and black hair of that land.  She was in her late twenties by appearance.  She was quiet.  Her name Phirona Ormonnis.  When she appeared six days ago she came with a Blackfyre Valyrian.  She seemed to be in her early twenties.  She was very pretty.  Arya was quite smitten with her looks.  She had never seen a Valyrian with their silver white hair and purple irises.  She was not as quiet as the Myr woman but she was very nice.

What they brought to their assembly was the making of arrows.  Evidently Merril had plenty of fletching and each arriving Druid had a large pouch full of fletching.  The druids made their own arrows but they did not have the time to make the quantities necessary with the arrows they were letting loose.  Merril had a large room stacked with shafts.

Arya realized then that this man had been preparing for such a situation.  The women spent all their free waking time in the day making arrows.  They were fast and efficient.  They were also doing much of the cooking and cleaning now to free the Druids time and strength for assaults on the Lannisters.  They were not druids but fully supported their efforts.  Arya hoped to learn more of them.

She had learned much more two nights ago.  She had gotten up to fix herself a meal in the middle of the night.  She had seen a low light on in the room the women shared.  She had been on her way back to her room when she heard loud moaning and one of the women was then crying out as if in pain.

Arya’s hackles were not up.  She did not sense danger.  She had almost walked on but she tried the door knob.  It was not locked.  Her curiosity overcame her.  _Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction kept him coming back_.  Arya smirked and silently opened the door to take a peak.  _What were those women doing to each other to make such sounds_?

Everything changed for Arya at that moment.  Half formed thoughts and confused desires flashed into clarity.

On the bed the two women were clenched together.  The woman from Myr was lying on her back her feet facing the foot of the bed.  The Valyrian woman was on Phirona straddling the woman with her elbows and knees.  The Valyrian’s body orientated in the opposite direction of the Myrish woman.  Their bodies were wallowing into each other.  Their mouths were … their mouths were … oh gods their mouths were devouring each other’s pussies!

Then it hit her!  The smell of pussy.  The same exact smell her cunny made when she masturbated and she dreamed of doing something with the maids and female cooks of Winterfell.  She had not been exactly sure what she had wanted to do with them.

 _Now she knew_!  The Blackfyre woman’s head snapped up.  She shrieked through clenched teeth her body bucking wildly.  The woman’s violet eyes seemed to be blasted and then her eyes had rolled into the back of her head as the Myr woman was trying to simply devour her cunt!  Gods it was so beautiful!

She had silently closed the door and hurried to her room.  She was very tired the next early morning but she had a very happy pussy.  She had been enlightened!

It was after dinner. It was her turn to wash the dishes.  She was scrubbing dishes daydreaming on going down on those maids and cooks at Winterfell now that she knew what to do.  She couldn’t wait to masturbate tonight!

There was knock on the door.  The lead Druid went to the door and opened.  His body language told Arya that he was expecting more arrivals.

There was four men at the door lintel.  These men were not druids.  They did not have the grey robes that the Druids wore in public.  In the privacy of this sanctuary the Druids would switch to snow white robes.  The Druids wore grey in public to not draw attention.

These men were definitely warriors.  They seemed to be the approximate age of her father.  She instinctively knew that these men were from the “losing” side of Robert’s Rebellion.  Two were of Valyrian descent.  One seemed to be of pure descent but the other had silver hair but it was several shades darker and bright blue eyes.  They were from a family named Velnalys that had traveled with the Targaryen’s when the settled Dragonstone five hundred years ago.  These men had been knights in the honor guard of Prince Rhaegar.  They had survived the battle at the Trident.  After the war, the men had fled to Stokeworth and led a quiet life among the other Valyrians living there.

The other two men were knights also but of Westerosi descent.  Javer Goodbrook was a dour looking man.  He was from one of the few houses from the Riverlands that had stayed true to the mad king.  He was thick of chest and had large black beard that was showing the first hints of grey.  His companion was Styve Grandison from the Stormlands.  He was a genial man with thick chest and massive arms. 

All the men wore large broadswords.  They greeted the Druids warmly.

Arya was happy.  Their wolf pack had just became much more powerful.

They came up to talk to Arya.  “You are the wolf prophesied” Styve spoke to Arya.  “Most strange. I would have thought you would be a male.  It is indeed strange times.”  He chuckled.  “I can’t wait to see the look on the Septons faces!” he had roared in laughter.  Javer had shook his head but he had a slight smile on his face.

 _What the hell was that supposed to mean_?!  Arya thought.


	8. Misunderstood Servant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN #1: I am guessing most of the readers are HBO viewers who have not read the books yet. The reason I mention this is Eddard's leg injury. In the books his leg injury came from his horse falling on him and not a sword wound. This will come into play later.

Insurrection

Misunderstood Servant

 

“I will move out into the streets of King’s Landing and cleanse it of this foul plague of wolves running amuck in my streets!” Joffrey's voice rang out in high pitched grating whine.

 _Oh gods not again_ Varys thought.  The eunuch kept his face carefully bland.

The new boy king was slashing his bastard sword around.  He now had the sword he had demanded.  All were still waiting for action from the boy who would be King.  Joffrey was not capable of handling a full broadsword Varys observed with mild distaste.  He was in the main communal living area the Lannister’s seemed to favor.  The furniture was ornate and the food extravagant.  Varys was standing off to the side with his hands pushed into the large sleeves of his robes.

“I am the greatest warrior king this realm has ever known.  I will make my father’s exploits seem pale by comparison.”  Joffrey was pushing out his skinny chest.  The eighteen year old was quite impressive in a pathetic way.  He was like a half fledge eagle kicked out its nest.  Hopeless.  At least said eagle knew they were in serious shit.  Not so Varys' royal liege. 

Varys observed Cersei as she watched her son.  She lifted her wine cup to her mouth and took a big gulp.  Her son leapt up into the air stabbing out with his sword.  He landed awkwardly and cried out twisting his ankle.

Cersei took another big gulp from her goblet with a sour look on her face.  Varys had noticed that she was drinking more as the Stark wolf and her pack ravaged her precious lions and fellow sycophants.  Each defeat like a thorn in her paw.  She was worried and he could not blame her.

Varys was very impressed with what Arya and her Waterdancer were accomplishing.  He had been surprised to discover that the Druids had been so martial.  He had assumed the man, Merrel, was a pacifist.  He had only hoped the man could heal Eddard Stark if Arya could get her farther to the man.  Varys had heard the tales of his magical abilities.

He had thought the idea hopeless when he suggested the Druid.  He had merely been trying to save his life at the time.  Varys knew his life was on the dagger’s razor’s edge at his throat.  Merrel had a natural magical talent that he had honed to the fine degree of the miraculous.  It was not a skill that any other Druid had or anyone else for that matter.

The boy king sat in a chair rubbing his ankle.  His injury now recovered Joffrey jumped up and again was swishing his sword through the air.

Littlefinger appeared.  He stood with his ramrod straight posture looking at the Boy King pretend he was actually a man.  Varys studied the man who was his only true foe when it came to the arts of manipulation.  Robert had been a buffoon and Cersei was a harridan that would never truly accomplish anything of note.

It was Petyr Baelish that actually knew how to maneuver pieces on the Cyvasse board.  He supposed Tywin Lannister had shown the skill but his focus was so centric on making his own house shine and seem great he lost sight of the larger goals of kingdom so that as many as possible benefited.  He did have to give the old lion his due.  Tywin had made sure the kingdom was solvent while he was the Hand during the reign of Aerys II Targaryen.

Varys had never liked Tywin.  The man was cruel and vindictive.  He could not be allowed to again achieve influence and power at the court of the Iron Throne.  Tywin would not be good for the realm.

Varys’s had had such high hopes when Eddard Stark came to King’s Landing to serve as Robert’s Hand.  Jon Arryn had been too old and lacked the vigor necessary to match wits with the jackals, indulgent lions and outright gluttonous stag.  Eddard was a man in his prime and full vigor.

Alas, Eddard had been a sheep among the proverbial wolves that were his House’s name sake.  For a man who led the House that had a Direwolf as its sigil Eddard Stark was amazingly sheep like.  Varys had learned very quickly that one could indeed be too noble and virtuous. 

He had had his hopes dashed and been forced to abandon the man to his fate.  Varys had never considered that his daughter, Arya, would not only somehow escape the net caste for her but was now leading an Insurrection that seemed to be succeeding to a degree he would have never thought possible.  He had assumed she and Syrio would quickly be captured and Syrio executed.  Now Varys began to wonder if they might not somehow succeed.  

He was in league with the daughter now.  The dagger to the throat had totally convinced Varys to cast his lot with the girl.  That and the threats from Syrio.  Varys knew he was tolerated at best by those he served.  The false narratives of sedition Syrio had forced him to pen was a death sentence if they ever reached Cersei or Joffrey.

He had thought to leave Eddard Stark to his fate.  He knew the plan by Cersei was to send Eddard Stark to the wall but his surveillance of the royals had led Varys to know that Joffrey had every intention to behead Eddard in the public square.  The young whelp felt he needed to show that he was indeed a fierce lion who took care of all challengers.

Varys had started to visit Eddard after his “meeting” with the young wolf and her water dancer.  The clandestine meetings first in the Red Keep and the later in the dungeons.  Varys with the secret tunnels had access to all of the Red Keep's environs.  He gave Eddard concoctions that he purloined from Grand Maester Pycelle.  The man had been feverish and ranting when he gave the man the first doses.  He began the treatments in the Red Keep and continued them now that the man was in the dungeons. 

He had used a tunnel that led into an unused corridor of the dungeons.  He had a special lock made that had a hidden lock aperture that he had a key for.  The lock recessed into the wall and all but invisible unless you knew it was there.  It let him into the jail easily and unseen.  The guards were guarding the passages leading into the dudgeon area.  Why put many troops in the dungeons themselves when the goal was to keep interlopers out.  Make the perimeter strong and one did not have to fear the stronghold itself.

True, the warren of cells was thick with red cloaks now but most were located at the known entrances to the dungeons.  These were above ground and the now discovered underground river entrance.  While the numbers guarding Eddard Stark might seem impressive they were wildly distributed.

This gave Varys free reign in the dungeons.  The jailers were very cautious since their predecessors had been taken out.  Though the evidence was spotty, Varys and Cersei both felt that they met their end down at the underground river peer.  Why had they been down there was the question.

That led to a more frightening question for Varys.  Where had the faceless man gone?  Did he know that Varys had betrayed him?

With his ministrations Eddard had recovered somewhat from his travails.  He was no longer burning up with fever.  He had lost a lot of weight but no longer was gaunt with the extra food he was being given by Varys.  If the young wolf cub could reach her father, Varys wanted him able to somewhat help in his movement from his cell.

He had talked to Eddard after he had recovered his wits.

“You betrayed me Varys.”

“No Eddard.  You betrayed yourself.  I told you that you were aligning against forces that if you did not take them down first would consume you.”  Vayrs looked around in the dark dank cell.  “You were consumed.”

“Then why are you here now.  I am sure these medicines and extra food is not the Regent’s doing.”

“It is your daughter’s doing?”

“Sansa?” the man asked with a look of doubt on his face.  All knew the girl was weak in the face of danger.  She was the perfect damsel that had no backbone to stand up to anyone.  She had become what she was raised to be.

Varys had actually felt the need to chuckle.  “It was Sansa who betrayed you.”

“What?!  Impossible!”

“I fear so Eddard.  She was quite besotted with Joffrey I fear.  She has learned the errors of her ways I feel but it was her telling Cersei of your plans to flee that made her act.  That and your threat to expose her incestuous liaison with Jamie and their children.  Since you had allowed Cersei her freedom and she had made it clear to you she was playing the Game of Thrones … well, you see the end result.  I did warn you.  More than once.”

Varys fixed Eddard with a hard stare “You need to learn to see events from the viewpoints of your potential opponents on the board game called the Game of Thrones.  It is not the physical battlefield you are used to Warden of the North.  Learn!  Grow!  Adept and conquer your foes.”

Eddard heard but did not fully take in Varys advice at the moment.  His mind was reeling.  “She betrayed me” Eddard spoke softly with a stunned look on his face.  Varys saw a hard look come onto Eddard’s face.  Good.  Maybe he was learning.

“Yes she did Eddard.  The daughter who showed me the proper path was Arya.”  Varys then described the exploits of Arya and her Water Dancer instructor.  How they had accosted him and forced him into league with them and how they were progressing in their Insurrection.  How their efforts had delayed any action on his person.

“I knew Syrio was good … and Arya … she is possessed with the wolf … Lyanna …” Eddard mumbled to himself his eyes while looking at the dungeon wall were in reality seeing miles beyond and years in the past.  Varys had wondered where that train of thought would lead but Eddard stopped musing and looked at him.  “So they mean to break me from this dungeon I take it?”

Varys could see the man calculating and looking at events from all angles.  This was a warrior looking at a warrior situation.  He was in his comfort area now.  “How?  They are only two.”

Varys had instructed Eddard of him putting Arya and Syrio in league with Merrel the Druid.  Of course, Eddard had never heard of the religious sect.  To be truthful, Varys had only known of the man due to his unique gift in healing.  Through that association he had come to learn of the hidden sect.  Varys had known of them as only legends.  He had assumed they still carried on their history of pacifism.

Varys had discovered that they had learned the way of the bow and the sword.  That had surprised Varys.  Druids had begun to stream into the City and were attacking the forces of Cersei more and more boldly the eunuch informed the leader of House Stark.

As the weeks passed Eddard strength did improve but his wrecked leg continually sapped his strength.  Varys kept he man instructed with his daughter’s successes and the slow increase of their forces.

“Somehow they are able to stay one step ahead of the Lannisters.  I have done research and I believe they are using familiars.”

“What?” Eddard had asked in the glum.

“Animals that they can use their senses.  They are able use the animals eyes, ears and noses.”

“Hmmmm.  They are wargs?”

“I don’t think the link is quite that intimate but it is effective.  It is only a theory.  I have no idea which animals they would be using.  Something allows them to avoid all the traps set.  It is driving Cersei to the cusp of drunken madness and Joffrey is frightened.  It has bought you time.  I only wonder who much more time.”

Eddard had had no answer to that rhetorical question.

Now Varys stood in the confluence of Lions.  He was playing both sides as he was often made to do.  He would not betray the young wolf but he would quickly sever all links and disavow any knowledge if the traitors were killed or caught.

Varys could feel the moment was approaching.  The forces of wolf and lion were about to collide and soon one side or the other must prevail.

He looked at Littlefinger.  He did not like this man who stood rock still looking over the large room.  Myrcella was practicing her needle work and keeping herself occupied.  Tommen had his nose in a book reading a history of the Targaryen civil wars.

Sansa was dour and downcast sitting by herself.  She too was stitching a lively pattern of flowers but she was alone.  She was cast out from the lion’s den.  Even though it had been her rash actions that had alerted Cersei to Eddard’s plans it was the girl who suffered the rebuff of the Lannister family.  Her father was a traitor to the Lannister line and she had to pay the price.  Varys knew the girl was miserable at the turn of events.  No one was allowed to see her father and the lack of information was obviously wearing at the girl.  She had at first asked constantly about the fate of her father but had learned from the snide remarks from Joffrey and the cold rebuff from Cersei that her requests were futile.

If Eddard survived the next weeks he wondered what Sansa’s fate would be.  Eddard had deserved the right to know who had brought him down.  There was always consequences to one’s actions. 

“I will dispatch these Stark dogs with my mighty sword!  My mighty thews will slay them all!” Joffrey called out in a regal voice.

Varys watched Cersei take another big gulp from her wine goblet.  The regent regarded her son with unreadable eyes.

Petyr looked over at the boy.  Petyr’s back was its usual ramrod straight self and the perpetual smirk was fully in effect.  The looked seemed to be glued to his face.

“A new patrol is forming up my King.  Do I have them saddle a horse for you to take the lead in hunting down the Stark wolves?” Littlefinger asked the boy King.

“The King of Beasts does not waste his efforts hunting down these elusive jackals.  Corner them and then I will sally forth to put down the curs.  Do not trouble me with such silly thoughts of I, Joffrey Baratheon, chasing willy nilly down back alleys and rank lanes.”

Varys was impressed.  The boy king had his excuses readily at hand now.  Before, the boy had been sputtering and looking like the coward he was trying to come up with reasons to not go out and lead the forces of the Crown against the Stark wolves.

The Master of Whispers looked at Cersei from the corner of his eye.  The woman looked at her son with a stone face.  She swirled her wine goblet looking at the dark red ichor swirl.  She lifted it slightly towards her son and drank a big gulp.  Varys knew the boy had to be a big disappoint to the woman.  Still, the woman loved the churlish child.  He was still her son and she loved him dearly.  Maternal love was blind Varys had come to determine.

The woman was obviously deluded.  His musings turned back to Eddard's daughter.

Varys was still impressed with how the girl and Syrio were constantly changing the patterns of their attacks.   They had twice taken four days of leave from the battlefield.  Just when the forces of the crown were beginning to relax the attacks would resume. 

The Lannisters and gold cloaks of course were adapting.  They were sending out many patrols no more than five or six city blocks apart with war horns around many necks.  When an attack would commence the horns would be sounded and their fellow forces would come running.

Still, with the spies they obviously had, the Stark forces with their Druid allies always attacked one edge or the other of the patrols.  They would then disappear into the proverbial mist.  Now many attacks were lightning fast seeking only to kill or wound a few or small handful of loyal forces to the Lannisters.  Each successful attack sapping a little more will from the forces of the crown.

The battles out in the field that Eddard had initiated and Jamie Lannister was fanning kept King’s Landing relatively isolated.  Ravens had been sent to Casterly Rock but forces from that far away force were still several weeks to a month out.  That was if they were not attacked and reports were coming in that raiding parties were harassing them.  The Druids had spread the word and their brothers were taking to the field to fight.  Varys would not have believed it.

Word had spread of the rebellion within the walls of King’s Landing.  Morale was sinking with the forces of the crown.

Worse, strange deaths were now occurring within the castle walls themselves.  Men were found dead in their beds with no apparent cause of death.  Others were found at the bottom of stairs and some others with heads caved in hitting the corner of a table.  A few had died with froth in their mouth.  A tray of food beside them.  Was it poison or an allergic reaction.  Three men had been found in the moat outside the main wall.  One had fallen from the battlement breaking his neck.

This had everyone on edge.  Nothing was ever seen that seemed amiss.  How could this be happening?  Was it all just accidents?  It had to be murder.  Didn’t it.  That was what the Lannister’s thought.

Varys was terrified.  The Faceless Man was in their midst.

Varys had a duty to perform.  He was not sure who he was serving at the moment.  "I must report moral is sinking low my King, Regent.  Our losses are affecting our men."

"And what should we do Varys?" Cersei asked her focus for a moment away from her wine goblet.

"I only report what i hear my Regent.  It is the crown that must act."

Joffrey had a look of disdain on his face.  "The men should consider it an honor to lay down their lives for their King!" Joffrey sang out a song of discordant notes.  They made no sense.

Cersei glanced at her son and for a moment contempt crossed her face.  She then turned back to Varys with a look of calculation on her face.

 "Increase the wages of our men by three gold dragons and the gold cloaks by a gold dragon and a silver stag.  That should show the Crown values their efforts on our behalf.  We will reward their service."

"Mother.  No!  They are here to serve me!" Joffrey cried out.  Varys then watched Cersei slowly bend Joffrey to reason.  Cersei was right of course.  Varys wondered how much longer the Boy Lunatic would listen to his mother before he grew tired of her.  Varys thought first Eddard then one day soon Cersei.  The boy was cruel.  The boy was vain.  The boy was insane.

Between the rabid wolf pack in their midst and the Faceless Man wrecking havoc, Cersei was very afraid and Joffrey had made sure the at least three of the remaining Kingsguard were near him at all times.  With the reduction of said knights either killed, out in the field or dismissed Sandor Clegane, Balon Swann and Richard Horpe had been elevated to the Kings Guard to give the necessary force to guard the royals.

They of course had no idea what was occurring or how.  Varys did.  He had learned long ago as a youth to hide his fear.  He felt great fear now.  Obviously, the Faceless Man had decided to align with the Starks for some unknowable reason.  He had been so scared at first when he recognized the signature of the assassin’s work.  Varys had considered using his tunnels to flee the Red Keep and then from King’s Landing.  Booking himself passage back to Pentos and Ilyrio.

Then the blind panic had passed.  If the Faceless Man knew who had betrayed him Varys would already be dead.  No manner of secret passages or untold number of sparrows singing could have protected him from the scourge from the House of Black and White.  If the Faceless Man wanted him dead he was dead.  That simple.  When he could look at it from that perspective he could function again.  His fear was still great but he could again think and act.

It had been one more reason to aid Arya Stark.  Now she had the House of Black and White on her side.  How had she managed that?  Surely she did not even know of that dark and dire order.  How?  The girl was definitely full of surprises.  She was pulling in powerful allies in from all quadrants it appeared.

He looked again at Littlefinger.  He had to admit it.  He despised the man.

Everything that Varys did he was trying to bring a better world to Westeros.  Varys was trying to bring a more fair life for the common people.  People like his sparrows.  He did all he did trying to bring such a world into being.  He was finding it so hard.  Everyone let him down.  He wondered and hoped that if Eddard Stark somehow survived to find his way back from the doorstep of death he would be ready to do what was necessary.

Eddard Stark with a sense of purpose and destiny could be a potent force of change.  Change for good.

Petyr Baelish was none of the things that Varys was striving for.  Petyr Baelish was only interested in power.  What Varys found strange was the fact that the man did not seem to have a burning ambition to sit on the Iron Throne itself.  At best he seemed to want to put a person on the throne that he could influence.  He did not even seem to want to have a puppet he would work the marionette strings on.  Making a person jump through hoops and jerk about on the royal dais.

He seemed to love the Game of Thrones merely for the game in and of itself.  Varys found this truly troubling.  Petyr did not seek to rule or have the ultimate power himself.  This made Petyr a dangerous man for Varys.  His motivations were so strange to Varys that he could not predict what the man might do next.

Varys smiled to himself.  While Varys thought the chances of success for Arya was still marginal, he knew what the goals of the young wolf were.  He saw the possibility of success.  This possibility would be splendid if it did arrive.  He had betrayed Eddard Stark.  He could not hide that fact.  He would not.  The man was fair.  His daughter was fair at her core too.  They would know he had helped them.  If they did win in their efforts he was safe. If they were captured alive then he would take to the tunnels and would flee the Red Keep.  He would return to Illyrio in Pentos.

He did not think that the wolf girl would accept anything but total victory.  The only other possibility for her would be death.

If they won the day and retrieved Eddard from the Lannister’s clutches that would only be part of the battle.  They would then have to achieve victory over Cersei and Joffrey Baratheon.  Varys would be smug if that occurred. 

Petyr Baelish had also betrayed Eddard Stark.  His actions as easily as Varys had put the man in the dungeons.  If Eddard won his freedom then he would come seeking justice.  Cersei and Petyr would have no markers to play.  Varys would have the fact that he helped to save and free Eddard Stark.  He would be able to operate from a position of influence and power.

He would like to see Petyr squirm. That was if he did not flee first.  He was not sure what the man would do.  Petyr did love so the Game of Thrones.

“We must act mother!” Joffrey suddenly called out.

Varys turned to look at Joffrey.

“What do you mean son?” Cersei asked in a bored voice.

“I demand that we punish Eddard Stark.  We must punish him.  If we punish him this will strike fear into the forces of the Insurrection.”

Cersei had sat up from slumping in her chair.  “Or enrage them Joffrey.  They are killing us across King’s Landing.  Is it wise to enrage them further?”

“I say that it is mother!” Joffrey suddenly yelled.  “I grow tired of these pinpricks.  I will put a stop to it.  We will try Eddard Stark tomorrow at high noon.”

It was the late morning.

“I do not think that we should—“

“Shut up mother!  I am King I say.  I grow tired of this constant agitation.  I want an end to it.  I will not be afraid anymore.”

 _Ah the truth_.

“Son” Cersei began.

“ENOUGH!  I am King not you mother.  I command here mother.  I will have my trail.  I have waited long enough."

Varys saw the boy’s eyes glittering.  He had waited long enough indeed.  He had wanted to have his murmur’s play long enough.  Joffrey wanted the stage moved from his mind to the real world.

Varys saw the calculation in Cersei’s eyes.  She would wait to the trail to try and again prevail on her son to show sense.  Varys knew it would be helpless.  He had told Cersei that Eddard Stark had agreed to confess his crimes at the beginning of this tableau.  Eddard would not now knowing his daughter was fighting for his freedom.  That she was succeeding.

It was time to move.  Varys had kept neutral in his actions reading the tea leaves and his finger to the wind.  The portents were clear.  He must act if he wanted to bring in a better world.

Varys had to wait for another hour before he was free to leave his duties with the Lannisters.  He could not afford to bring attention to himself.

Varys, back in his quarters quickly donned a wig and put makeup on his face to give his face a more angular look.  He smiled. Being bald had its advantages.  He dressed the part of a merchant of woolen products.  There were several such establishments near Merrel’s home.  He started to head to the secret passage to his quarters.  He had already changed his gait and leaned slightly to the left.

If spoken too he would have the accent of a man from Grandview who had moved to King’s Landing to make his fortune.  He entered the tunnel and closed the door to his humble abode.  He met Stelsa walking down the first hidden corridor.  He told her to pass the word to all his sparrows to go to roost. 

When she asked why he told the little sparrow that a storm was coming.  Lions and wolves were about to fight and he did not want any of his precious friends and confidants to be caught up in the coming warfare.  Her eyes went big.  Varys had warned her of the possible coming conflict.  He had assured it would only be the one or two more battles.  They merely had to weather the storms.  She said nothing but she was happy.  She much preferred the Wolves to the Lions.

Varys hurried down the tunnels till he came up to the store that led him up into King’s Landing.  He quickly went out to the streets and took a slightly circuitous route too Merrel’s home.  His eyes constantly scanning the environs.  He had long ago learned to spot being followed.  A spy could always spot another spy.  There were none about Varys.  Varys moved freely from street to street.

The little wolf had thrown all off her scent.  Again he was impressed with the wolf cub and her Water Dancer.

As he approached Merrel’s home he felt a presence on his left shoulder suddenly.

“Welcome Varys.  I always loathe meeting you but I suppose that you coming here unannounced means you carry dire news” Syrio told the whisper of secrets.

Varys betrayed no reaction.  Syrio kept impressing Varys in a most distressing manner.  No one had ever penetrated his guises before.  They never knew they were speaking to the keeper of secrets unless he let them in on his disguise.  These First Swords were definitely a force to be reckoned with.  Or was it just Syrio Forel.  It mattered not with the current situation.

He was taken into Merrel’s abode.  In it, Merrel and four of the Druids were present in the front gathering room.  They wore their white tunics that whispered along the floor as they moved.  At a small table in the corner were the two Valyrians who had been part of Rheagar’s Honor Guard.  They spoke in high Valyrian.  They spoke of the young girl that Ilyrio had helped sell to Khal Drogo to procure the Dothraki services for Viserys Targaryen.  Of course the fool had gotten his hosts upset over something and gotten gold poured on his head.

His sister was probably dead by now.

Arya came down the stairs.

“Who is this?” she asked Syrio.

He sighed and tisked at Arya.  Syrio motioned with his head for Arya to inspect their new visitor.

She smirked and stood before Varys.  She walked around him.  Varys stayed in character.  She tilted her head to the side and then looked at him gauging his height and weight.  Varys was impressed.  He knew she was going through people she knew.  Why else had Syrio reacted so?  The Water Dancer was teaching Arya more than the sword.  He was slowly crafting Arya into a most dangerous weapon indeed.  Would they survive long enough to temper Arya into hardened Valyrian Steel?

“Varys” she said in a questioning tone.

“Yes girl.  Your skills are improving.”

“Why are you here my almost friend?”

“Joffrey will try you father tomorrow at noon.  He plans on beheading your father Arya.”


	9. Prison Break

Intercession

Prison Break

 

Syrio was coming to the end of the tunnel that lead to the pier on the underground river that ran beneath the dungeon of King’s Landing.  He walked slowly with his senses projected out.  He extended his hand behind him.  His two companions stopped moving and calmed their breathing.  Syrio listened intently.  He breathed the air deep into this lungs.  He had not rounded the slow curve of the path that ran from the hidden tunnel in separate hidden steps to around the jut of rock and to the landing so he could not yet use his sight.

He paused.  He smelled blood in the air. The coppery scent sharp and thick on in his nostrils.  Men had recently died.

He looked back at Javer Goodbrook the tall knight with brown hair that was thinning slightly and had massive shoulders and arms.  His waist thick and legs like tree trunks.  He towered above Syrio.  Behind the man was Dwan Risley a slight blonde Druid.  He stood nearly six feet tall and had his Weirwood long bow.  He had an Arakh on his hip.  His bow was loosely notched and ready to fire.

He motioned them to come closer.  They did.  He spoke in a soft whisper.

“I smell blood.  A lot of blood.  There has been a battle here.  This cannot be a coincidence.  I am going to go around the bend and see what my eyes see.  I will be crotched down.  Dwan I want you right behind me ready to fire a moment’s notice.  We need to see what has transpired.  My instinct tells me this is good but I need to be sure.”

Syrio calmed himself.  He was leading a flanking operation.  In their plus month of assaults on the forces of the Lannisters Syrio had learned much of the tunnel network that Varys used to accomplish much of his spying and work of subterfuge.  He knew of the two other entrances into the dudgeons from the tunnel network.

Syrio did not trust making initial assault from that direction.  One, they would not know of the forces they would find arrayed against them till they left the tunnels.  Providence may have conspired against them and have a large force by chance there arrayed against them.  Varys knowledge of the deployment of troops was spotty since the troop rotations were open to constant change.  He did not want to open the hidden entrance and suddenly be attacked.

Also, these hidden tunnels were too great of an asset to sacrifice without great need.  He wanted to keep their secret intact if at all possible.

There was another reason he was attacking from this round about direction.  If they assaulted the dudgeons from the tunnels within the dudgeon and were initially not discovered but Eddard Stark just disappeared it would prompt a heavy inspection of the rooms of the dudgeons.  They might be discovered.  Syrio planned on the continued use of these tunnels. 

With Syrio leading an assault up from the docks it would lead all suspicions of the direction of the assault away from within the dudgeon itself.

Syrio had been informed by Varys that two companies of Lannisters were guarding the dudgeons.  That was near four hundred men.  That number would cause most to blanch.  It did not Syrio.

Most military forces used a twelve hour on and twelve hour off duty troop rotation cycle.  This instantly reduced the numbers by half that one had to deal with.  Varys had instructed Syrio that none of the troop were being bivouacked in the cells.  It would depress moral.

Most of the troops were stationed above ground and on the grounds around the dudgeon.  That would be the expected vector of attack.  The bulk of the troops would be orientated to expel attacks from without.  Varys had told Syrio through the month of monitoring that a small contingent was kept in the lower tunnels.  The idea would be spot any boats approaching and launch arrows at the attackers as runners were sent up the steps for reinforcements.  The tunnel was a constricted avenue of access and would require less guards to secure long enough for reinforcements to arrive. 

A contingent of ten guards were kept in the jailers office and patrolling the halls of the dudgeon itself.  Syrio was a master of stealth.  He would use the shadows to sneak up on his foes and slay them silently.  Dwan would feather foes from range.  Javer was for the men who got through to fight up close and personal.  Syrio was sure that he would be able to take most out if not all through stealth.

He smirked to himself.  Who said you needed a faceless man.  It was funny making Varys blanch every time he mentioned the escaped Faceless Man.  Varys acted unperturbed but Syrio from the corner of his eye would see the man checking the shadows closely whenever Syrio jabbed Varys.

He stuck his head around the bend.  His breath caught.  There was a boat at the dock.  He saw four dead men on the dock or draped over the gunwales of the boat.  A body was bobbing the water near the boat.

He spotted two dead men near the steps.  They seemed to have just died.  He saw no effort of escape in the position of their bodies or contortion of their limbs.

Someone had struck with lightning speed and with devastating affect.  Syrio did his fingers five and then two to show seven and then made a cut motion across this throat to show the men were dead.  He slowly advanced out into the torch light.  He had his head on a swivel.  His steps made no sound.  He could hear nothing but the soft lapping of water against the wood of the boat and stone of the pier.  He moved slowly forward. 

The men at the edge of the pier had had been cut in the throat from what he could gather.  He got to the edge of the dock.  There was blood everywhere.  How had the men been ambushed?  They had to have seen the boat come out the cave entrances that were fifty yards away on one side and forty yards away on the other side where the ceilings came down to near the water.  They must have seen the boat coming.

He saw something strange underneath of the body of the man half lying in the boat.  His heart rate accelerated.  He motioned for the two men to come out and go to the stairwell.  He waited for that to occur and then jumped into the boat.  He pushed the dead body to the side.

He gasped.  It was the face of a woman.  He had seen this before in his duties but each time it was still shocking to behond.  The face of course was flaccid and distorted but he could steal see the comely features the woman had once worn in life.  A life that Faceless man had taken or maybe the woman had visited the temple of Black and White and drank from the fountain of her own free will. 

A Faceless Man was on the loose in the warren of tunnels.  It had to be the same Faceless Man that had Varys shitting his pants.  Why were they still here?  The Faceless Man had come to the dock wearing the face of a beautiful woman.  The guards had been all too male.  They had quickly come up to the woman whether for good or ill Syrio would never know.  It had been their death warrant.  He was sure the attack had been both unexpected and savage and over before it had even begun.

The Faceless Man was helping them but again the question begged:  Why?

If they knew Varys had betrayed them Varys would already be dead.  Had this Faceless Man had been waiting for over a month for this moment?  Varys had been reporting all the strange deaths in the Red Keep.  Syrio had considered if this was the Faceless Man’s work but of course it could have been all accidents or others had joined the Insurrection.  Still, deep down Syrio had known.  The Faceless men most often killed by coincidence to hide their work.

Syrio had suspected strongly but he could not be absolutely sure.   That doubt had disappeared with this mayhem.  But the question of why again sprang forth in Syrio’s mind.  They never interfered in the ways of Kings or Corporations beyond the limited scope of their contracts.  This did not fit their model of activity.  It made no sense to the former Water Dancer.

It did not matter for the nonce.  They had been given a reprieve.  He had no further time to investigate.  He needed to be moving up those stairs to let in the forces of his disciple.  They needed to save Eddard Stark.

Syrio pulled the corpse from the boat manhandling it to dump the body over the rail of the boat into the river.  He hooked the face with his rapier and cast it far into the river to have the current take the sad face to the sea and seek a sweet embrace in the tidal marshes surrounding the Red Keep.

Syrio pushed the boat from the dock and used the paddle in the bottom of the boat to get into the main current.  He then dove into the water and swam back to the dock.  Javer pulled him up out of the water back onto the dock.

He would leave the rest of the corpses.  Syrio wanted all to think the attack came from below and the perpetrators left again by boat.  They came to the steps and Syrio saw these men had been killed by expertly thrown throwing daggers.  Definitely an assassin.  An assassin who worshipped death.

He led the way up the steps twenty steps in advance of his companions.  They moved quietly like the silence of the grave.  He would move up six or seven steps and stop to listen.  His body absolutely still and his breathing shallow to let his senses range.  There were torches in scions at regular intervals to give him light to see deep down the corridor. 

He came across three guards that had been stationed at intersections of tunnels.  Each man had had a savage cut drawn across his throat from ear to ear.  Syrio was sure they never saw their death coming as a hand clamped over their mouth and they were garroted with a cut that cut across their spines the cuts were so deep.  Syrio was again impressed by the Faceless man.  There was light in the tunnel and still they successfully came up on each guard unawares and dispatched them.

The Faceless Man was doing their work for them.  Why?  He did not care.  He was able to move up the stairs quickly followed by his two ghosts of walking death.   They were soon in the passages of the dudgeon itself.  They found seven more dead men.  Damn.  Each man was obviously surprised.  He was not so sure he wanted to meet his Faceless Man.  How could you fight a man who moved as one with the shadows.

He went to the Jailer’s office.  It was empty.  He wondered if one of the dead was among the corpses he had passed on the way up the steps or more likely in the dungeons itself.  The Faceless Man had accomplished two tasks for Syrio.  The obvious one of killing the guards was appreciated.  The second and as appreciated was the path of death and destruction that had been sowed would lead the guards down to the docks for their supposed escape.  This would hide the tunnels in the dudgeons itself.

This was almost too easy.  If he was reading a novel in Braavos he would be expecting the forces of the crown to explode out of the shadows.  He could sense no ambush.  He had been given a master key to Eddard’s cell by the Whisper.  He went down the corridors to Eddard’s cell.  He was on high alert but again he could not sense any ambush. 

The Faceless Man had swept away all opposition.  He had spent much of his efforts thwarting their efforts in Braavos and in other Free Cities.  Many times he had been successful.  He had also had some spectacular failures.  The last one had cost him his post and nearly his life.  The Sealord he had sworn to protect had died under his protection.  He had died from the hand of a Faceless Man.

He concentrated on the present.  They arrived at the cell of the one they sought.  Eddard Stark.  He opened the door.  He light the torch in the scion on the wall.  The man was asleep.  He was gaunt to the eye.  He had lost a lot of weight.  Syrio sniffed.  He did not smell illness or corruption.  Varys medicines had saved the man’s life.  He saw that his leg was a mess though.  He could see it was swollen still the joint ruined.  He knew the medicines had saved this man’s life but he was still sick.  He needed more medicine, food and true rest.  He ran down the corridors.  He came to the cell that had the secret access.

He used the key that Varys had given him and opened the cell.  He went to the seam that Varys had told him to look for.  He went to the seam and moved in from the corner five feet.  He pushed in from the top and then pushed in from the bottom on the block of the seam. He heard the sound of scraping and the wall pushed back easily on hidden hinges. 

He let in the other Druids, honor guard and Arya Stark.  The girl had absolutely refused to be left behind. She pushed out the tunnel.

“Where is my father?” his young charge demanded.  He quickly guided them to Eddard’s cell. 

Dwan and Javer had moved off to the entrance of the dudgeons from the upper levels.

Arya went into the cell and knelt by her father.

“Oh Father, father …” Arya sniffled and took her father in her arms.  She held him close.  Eddard’s eyes fluttered open.  Arya smiled a radiant smile down at her father.  “I have come to save you father.  Syrio and I are going to save you and we will get Sansa free and then we will throw the Lannisters down and you will become King and sit on the Iron Throne.”

Syrio looked at the tender interaction between father and daughter.  Eddard was clearly still confused as he looked around him and slowly focused on Arya.  He started to cry and hugged his daughter tighter to his body.

“Oh Arya … my precious daughter” Eddard looked around again.  “Varys told me you would be coming for me but—but I doubted … oh my precious daughter.”  He hugged Arya tight to him again and sobbed.  “You came for me … Sansa … Oh Arya you saved me.” Syrio considered himself a man hardened but seeing this interaction between father and daughter was touching and had him choking back his emotions.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eyes.  He whipped around fearing that an ambush had been sprung.  He saw Varys hurrying down the corridor from the hidden tunnel.  Syrio saw that the man was flushed and sweating profusely.  He was breathing heavily.  The man looked scared.  For that man to show that kind of emotion made Syrio very afraid. 

Varys bent over putting a hand on the hall wall.  He took a deep breath. 

“I ran all the way her from the Red Keep.  I have not trusted Joffrey.  I have been spying on him myself.  He called in his Kingsguard.  He has unbeknownst to Cersei called for your father to be brought to his quarters.  He says he needs to interrogate Eddard Stark before the public trail.  He really wants to torture Eddard.  Joffrey is unhinged.  He must be stopped.”

Syrio started to speak.

Varys held up his hand for silence.  Syrio stopped.  Varys felt this was important.  Syrio was totally in on Varys now.  The man had come to them a great haste and great possible harm to himself.  This showed the Water Dancer the man was willing to put his life on the line for their cause.

“I must get back.  Cersei will call for me when this coming fight gets back to her.  I need to be there to keep my deception going.  You must move.  I ran all the way here but I cannot have gotten here much before the forces coming for Eddard.  They will pair up with the forces already on duty.  You must hit them in the tunnels before they get into the warrens of the dudgeons.”

Syrio was cursing under his breath.  He made snap command decisions.  A man must be decisive on the battlefield.  Bold as the Lion; Strong as the Elephant.

“Matamion and Jaehaegar Velnalys I want you take Eddard back into the tunnels and back to the bakery.  I showed everyone on the way here the food cart that the owner has stored in the back store room by the double access doors.  We have the stored lettuce, potatoes sacks, and turnips sacks and produce boxes.  They are in racked boxes. You can easily hide Eddard in the cart and use the sacks and boxes to camouflage him.  The owners will help you.  King’s Keep and the realm itself have long tired of the Baratheon rule.”

“They want Eddard Stark to take the realm.”

“Why can’t someone else take Eddard back?  We want to fight!” Matamion barked out.

“Shut up!  We don’t have time to fight on this!  Time is running out damnit!  We may need to burst out into public of King’s Landing.  Your Valyrian features are harder to blend in.  Arya Stark will be going with you along with Merrel.”

Arya ground her teeth.  Merrel did not keep silent.

“Like the seven hells I will!”

“You are the healer among us.  Is there another?”

The man glared at Syrio.  “You are going with Eddard.  He has to be healed.  He cannot take the throne as a weak cripple.  He must win all his coming battles.  The realm will only support Eddard Stark if he is strong and vital.  It is imperative that you heal the man.”

Jaehaegar Velnalys spoke up “I can carry Eddard by myself.  Get him on my back.”

“That is a long way Jaehaegar” Syrio responded.

The man smiled grimly.  “My strength was legendary in our ranks.  I will not fail.  You will need Matamion’s sword.

“Okay” Syrio replied.  He had learned to trust these men of Rheagar’s old honor guard.

Matamion griped Jaehaegar’s shoulder in friendship.  “Thank you.”

The man smiled back.

Matamion and Merrel helped get a groggy Eddard on the Valyrian’s back.  The man wasted no time.  He started down the corridor at a face pace with Merrel and Arya stomping behind them.  They were clearly not happy at the turn of events.

He turned to Varys.  “They know the way.  I made sure we all do.  Get back.”

The eunuch turned to go.  Syrio reached out and gripped his arm.

“Thank you Varys.  You showed great courage.  I will never fully trust you though, you know” he said slyly.

The bald man bowed his head “I have always served the realm.  You are serving the realm.  Don’t disappoint me.”

The man started down the corridor.  Syrio liked the challenge.

“Let’s go!” Syrio barked.  They needed to meet the enemy as far forward in the dudgeon complex.  The administration area on the upper floors was where he wanted to try and meet the approaching force.

They ran up the main corridor and burst out into the first level of the storage cellars that housed the detritus of past reigns.  He stopped the formation’s advance.  He cocked his head.  He heard the rustling of many feet.  He pulled his forces back to the edge of the room and tunnel.  He ran around and extinguished the four torches in the scions on that side of the large room.

His archers knelt down.  His eyes nearly bulged out his sockets.  Arya was notching her bow.

He could not shout at the teenager.  They needed to stay silent and she knew it.  The girl was grim faced looking at him.  He needed all the arrow power he could get.  Syrio was pissed that Arya had disobeyed him but a large part of him admired the girl and her bravery.  The Druids had on their dark robes and he and Arya had dressed in dark tight fitting blouse tops and trousers.  Their boots flat black.  They would be hid by the dark and the bright torches those approaching had.  Their own torches would blind the Lannisters.  Syrio could see the flow of the torches approaching from on far.

Syrio whispered out “Don’t shoot till you see the white of their eyes.  Fire off five or six volleys and then fall back to the tunnel.  We may need those arrows as we retreat.”  Each archer had a quiver stuffed with thirty arrows.

The men came closer.  Syrio smiled grimly. He saw three Kingsguard knights towards the back of the group of forty men.  All were relaxed and grousing at being roused in the middle of the night.

The men were almost getting to close.  They still had not seen their foes hidden in the dark in the deep shadows.

The thrum and twang of bows sounded in the room.  Nine arrows shot out striking the leading edge of forces loyal to the throne.  The men were spun and snatched back.  All arrows hitting their targets.  The regent’s forces were shocked for a moment.  Another volley of arrows swooshed out and landed into targets.  More men were staggered and fell.  Screams started to fill the room.  Now the force of men were pulling their swords out and scurrying around seeking cover. 

The Kingsguard ran forward with swords drawn.  Two were knocked off stride with long bow arrows slamming into their breast plate armor and one arrow glanced off a helm.  Syrio came up behind Javer Goodbrook, Styve Grandison and Matamion Velnalys.  It galled Syrio to let others strike blows for him.  The men engaged the Kingsguard.  The sound of blades slamming into each other and bouncing off armor was loud in the room. 

The Druids and Arya were feathering the other Red and Gold Cloaks.  The arrows taking the fight out of them.  The men’s torches illuminating their targets while the Stark forces remained hidden in the dark.  Syrio watched the battle.  The Kingsguard were good and the equal of their foes.  None were his caliber of course.  It was time to make his presence felt.  A Kingsguard had locked up his blade with Javer. 

Syrio’s sword shot out finding the joint at the elbow. The blade sinking in deep.  The knight screamed dropping his sword.  Javer slammed several swords strokes into his helm collapsing the man.  Javer jumped over the fallen knight and came to Matamion’s aid as he was being pushed back and barely holding his own.  Now the Kingsguard was on the defensive.  Syrio and Styve was fighting the last Kingsguard who had put his back to the wall to keep himself from being flanked. 

He fought furiously holding off his tormentors.  Syrio heard a loud commotion.  About forty more men had stormed into the long room from the other doorway.  Syrio face fell into grim resolve.  Too many.  They could not hold against such numbers.  He did not blanch.  They would fight to the end.  It was Eddard that was truly important anyways in this Westerosi game called Game of Thrones.

Syrio was fighting furiously to keep the armored knights neutralized. 

From the corner of his eye he suddenly saw the new formation of men suddenly stop and fall into wild confusion.  He attacked his foe harder but the Kingsguard was holding his own.  Is armor making it hard for Syrio to find a joint to run his rapier through.  He and Styve kept the knights attention.  He never saw Arya crouched down approaching from the side.  Needle stabbed out at the knee joint.  The blade pierced the joint and went clean through the leg. 

The man screamed falling down.  Syrio gripped the man and flipped him onto his back and Styve slammed his sword down into his head again and again mangling his helm and crushing his skull.  The Kingsguard fighting Javer and Matamion suddenly had two arrows jutting out the space between the wings of his helm.  The man fell down dead like a cut marionette. 

The confusion was wild now.  The initial group of remaining soldiers were falling back.  Syrio turned to his forces.  “Retreat back to the tunnels and go down to the boats and flee.”  The seeds of deception planted.  They lion pack would follow the wrong trail. 

Syrio saw that in a moment the tide turned as it often did on the field of battle.  Now they were the aggressors. 

He spun around and attacked the men falling back.  He quickly cut down two of them.  He moved to engage the next man.  One of Arya’s arrows whistled over his shoulder and hit the man in the throat.  Two more men fell with long bow arrows jutting out their bodies.

Damn!  Could no one follow orders!  Was everyone trying to fight impossible odds?  He simply could not allow this unseen ally fight alone.  He knew who it must be.  He had no use for that dark dire order but his Faceless Man had come to their aid where he need not have.  Syrio would not let such a man fight alone.  He would not let the man, Faceless Man or not, die if he could help it.

As he closed the distance he saw the man was dressed as a Ninja of Yi Ti.  He was all black from a hood that covered his head and half his face all the way down to his covered feet.  He fought with a rapier and a bastard sword.  Both hands a blur whirling out death and maimed bodies.

The Faceless Man was amazing but he was too outnumbered.  Syrio slammed into the group milling around the Faceless Man trying to overwhelm him.  Styve, Javer and Matamion slammed into the melee.  Their swords hitting the men unprepared.  Their blades cutting men down.  These men were not unskilled but nowhere near the skill levels of true knights.

The dark dresses assassin had two men coming in on him while engaged with two men front of him.  Syrio cursed he would not reach him in time!  First one man and almost immediately the other man went down with arrows in their throats that had Arya’s white fletching. 

Syrio’s rapier pierced a man’s eye and he saw Javer chop a man’s arm off.  Blood spurting out as the man screamed in agony.  The Faceless Man swirled and pivoted killing anyone who came close.  The sudden charge of the new forces and the rain of arrows now falling on them from point blank range was whittling the forces of the regent down at a fast and furious rate.

Matamion staggard as sword partially penetrated his armor cutting into his ribs breaking four on his right cutting two near in half.  Javer and Styve moved in and dispatched the Gold cloak viciously.

“Leave me!”  Matamion shouted out in a wheezing voice his lung already filling with blood.

“Fuck you!” Javer shouted his answer. 

Syrio shouted out “Bring in the reinforcement and then retreat to the boats!”  It was amazing what a lie at the proper time and right conviction could do.

That took the fight out of the survivors.  The Lannisters had been faltering and now they broke and ran for the doorway they had come into the room from.  His lies sowing both confusion and knowledge that was false.  The Faceless Man came up to him.  He did not speak.

“Will you come with us?”

“Yes.”

Syrio turned and led his group back down into the tunnels of the dudgeons.  They went down to the lower levels and slowly filtered out the tunnel that led away from the dock area.  He was ecstatic.  He had suffered no losses.  Their attack was all shock and awe.  He remembered the quote from his master “What the ancients called a clever fighter is one who not only wins, but excels in winning with ease.”  It had been a lot of luck but their skill and ferocity of attack had carried the day.

When you surprise the enemy and attack savagely you will almost always win decisively.

Syrio’s force went up the hidden steps and into the secret tunnel from the underground docks.

They came out of the tunnel that led to the back of the bakery. 

Syrio spun around and slammed his fist into the Faceless Man’s stomach knocking the breath from the man. He gripped his shinobi shozoko and slammed the back of his head into the wall stunning the man.

In a flash his dagger was against the man’s throat.

“I never forget a face Jaqen H’ghar.  Borrowed or not.”


	10. Rough Introductions

Intercession

Rough Introductions

 

“Syrio!  What are you doing?!” Arya shouted at her Water Dancer instructor.  He had grabbed the man that had suddenly joined them in fighting off the forces of the throne.  She had not been able to see much as she was fighting with her bow and sword.  Her focus mainly consumed by the immediate foes she was fighting.

Her mentor had the his dagger against the man’s throat his free hand holding a handful of the man’s strange grab that covered the man’s lower face and head.  The look in Syrio’s face was murderous. 

“You know this man?” Arya yelled at the sword master.

“Yes I do!  He is a Faceless Man.  He killed the Sealord of Braavos.  Harlor Baerraan was under my care.  I failed him.  It was this man that killed him.  I will have my revenge!” Syrio yelled his forearm muscles tensing preparing to cut the man’s throat from ear to ear.

“Syrio stop it!” Arya bellowed at her instructor.

Arya could see the man was going to kill the man anyways.  A man who had selflessly helped to save them.  This was unacceptable.

“Stop!  If you kill him I will not become your disciple.  I will not learn from a man who kills an ally in cold blood.”

“Jaqen H’ghar is a Faceless Man.  He is no one’s ally.  They only serve death.  They are avatars of death.  They cannot be trusted.”

“It does not matter Syrio.  He helped save us. He saved us when he had no reason too.”

“A Faceless Man always has a reason Arya.  Never trust them.  They are snakes in the grass.”

“I don’t care.  He helped us.  What is between you and this Jaqen H’ghar lies in Braavos. This is King’s Landing.  This is another continent.  I will not judge the man on his actions that I know nothing of.  That is a lifetime away as far as I am concerned.”

“Arya!   Don’t be like your father!  This man does not follow the same edicts of the heart we follow.  He has no heart!”

Arya had walked up to them.  The Druids and the honor guard of Rhaegar Targaryen stood watching.  Matamion was wheezing in pain.  They needed to get back to Merrel’s residence to get the man aid.  His broken ribs had to be set to pull them out of his lungs.  He had expended himself greatly in service to her and her father.

Arya looked up at the “Faceless Man.  There was something familiar about this man.  She was not sure why.  Syrio still had his dagger at the man’s throat but the tension was gone.  She reached up slowly and gripped the fabric covering the man’s hair and lower face.  She slowly pulled the fabric back and down.

Arya gasped.  “You’re the man from the boat!”

Syrio’s head whipped around to stare down at his student.  “What do you mean?”

“This is one of the men that we saved.  We talked some when we were in the boat.”

She saw Syrio looking at her intently.  “What did you talk about?”

“He kind of thanked me and said I had cheated death and that death was owed.  He also said something I did not understand “valar morghulis”.

She saw Syrio look to and from her and who she now knew was Jaqen.  Syrio released his hold on the man but kept his dagger near the man.  He was poised to strike at a moment’s notice. 

“This man is extremely dangerous Arya.  A Faceless Man only serves his house.  The House of Black and White in Braavos.  They have a code to be sure but it is their own code that no one but themselves truly understand.  They serve death.  Do you deny this Jaqen H’ghar?”

“I do not deny or confirm anything to you Syrio Forel.  It is to the girl I give my allegiance.  Her heart is true.  She saved life where none need be saved.  Can you say the same?  Have you ever saved anyone only because it was the right thing to do?  Put yourself in harm’s way to save a complete stranger only because it was just?”

Arya saw her master scowl.  She had the answer to that question.  She was not proud of herself.  She merely did what she had to do in the situation.

The man looked down at her with his calm eyes.  “I am again in your debt Arya Stark.  Again you have plucked me from the hand of Death.  Those were your arrows that shot dead the men attacking me when I could not defend myself were they not?” Jaqen asked Arya.

She nodded her answer.

“I am once more in your debt.  You have fulfilled valar morghulis and once more put me in need of valar dohaeris.  Not once but twice over.  I do begin to wonder if you are fated to be the leader of our House one day.”

Syrio immediately bristled up and barked “Like hell you fucking ghoul.  Don’t you ever say that again to my disciple.  It is I who will train her.  Not you ghouls.”

“I serve a purpose.  You only serve weak men.  Your Sealord was corrupt.  Do you deny it?”

Syrio was silent.

“Arya is the daughter of a man who even our order could work with for the greater good.  If he ever matures into a true leader.  He is fair and just but naïve.  Maybe he can learn.”

Arya had heard this not so hidden innuendo about her father since her escape from the men helping her free her father.  She had had enough.

“I grow tired of this snipping about my father.  He is a great man!  Our people love him because he is fair and just and eats his meals with the common man.  I don’t see that here!”

“That is precisely what we are saying” Syrio spoke up. 

 _Now he was siding with the man he was about to kill_! Arya fumed.

“In the North with a people who have known the Starks for generations upon generations and accept their ways and vice versa it works Arya.  Not here in the South.  Everyone has their own agenda.  You father never took that into consideration.  His ‘innocence’ blinded him to the reality of this place.”

“Did you ever tell him this?!” Arya yelled at her master.  A master who she was extremely pissed off with at the moment.

“No I did not Arya.  It was not my place.  He would not have listened anyway.  He was sure his way was the correct way.  He is not the first to make such mistakes.  He won’t be the last.  It would seem he will survive his initial mistakes because of our actions.  Your actions.  Otherwise you father would have most likely have already been killed.  The question that arises is will he learn now that you, Arya Stark, have given him a second opportunity.”

“We have spent enough time here on this.  We must depart now.  The forces of the Lannisters will soon be out in full force.  We have not only bearded the Lion but we have severely injured it now.  A wounded beast is a dangerous thing.”

Syrio sent out the archers first, by ones and twos.  He told them to move out and spread out along the route back to Merrel’s residence.  They were to find spots to watch and attack if necessary.  The Druids would provide cover for Matamion and his two fellow royal guardsman Styve and Javer. 

When Arya went to slip out the door Syrio went to restrain her.  “No Arya stay with me.”

“Like seven hells Syrio.  I will not be cuddled like Joffrey Baratheon.  He claims he is a warrior.  I _AM_ a warrior.  I will not be cuddled” she told her mentor hotly locking eyes with him.  They stood nearly toe to toe in a staring contest of wills.

“I need you to help me guard Jaqen H’ghar.”

Arya snorted.  “ _Riiigghhttttt_!  You are watching him like a hawk and you have the drop on him.  Let me help you bind his wrists behind him after we fold his arms up high on his body.  He may be dangerous but trussed up like a sacrificial turkey and with Styve and Javer I would think you three big strong men could keep one captured Faceless Man in check.  Right?” Arya finished in a sardonic tone.

Syrio glared at her.  She had seen a line of rope in the storage room and went to it.  They trussed up the Faceless Man who did not resist.

“This is not the way to make friends little she-wolf.  Thrice you saved me.  I am in your debt” the assassin addressed Arya solemnly. 

“I will let my father judge you.  I you are found lacking you will hear Ice whisper to you as my father dispenses justice.”

The man looked at her quizzically.  He had no idea what Ice was.  Arya was not worried.  Her father would judge this Jaqen H’ghar wisely.  The Faceless Man  was in her debt after all and she trusted her father’s fairness totally.

She slipped out the door to walk fast down the road underneath the cover of the wooden roofs covering the walkways before the establishments down this lane.  She passed a Druid who softly called out to her from the shadows.  She took her spot fifty yards down the road.  She knew more Druids were now on the roofs. 

She wondered if the Ravens were providing their normal spying for their masters.  The birds were diurnal animals.  They probably couldn’t see that well at night anyways.  She waited and five minutes later she saw Syrio with Rhaegar’s old honor guard go by.  It would seem to the casual observer that a man had had too much to drink and his friends were helping him home.  Matamion was moving with enough sway and staggering to look drunk and not the seriously injured man he was.

In another five minutes they were all back at Merrel’s home.  Arya was thankful to be off the streets.  Once the battle was over and the adrenaline was gone she was exhausted.  She could still fight if she must but she knew she would not be at her best.

She had felt a surge though when just before she entered their sanctuary she heard the wild blare of multiple war horns being sounded.  The calls coming from the Red Keep.  Good.  They now knew that they no longer had her father captive.  She dearly wished she could be one of Varys little sparrows in the throne room or wherever the sulking Lannisters were gathered to.

She and her father would have her revenge.

Once in Merrel’s abode she immediately asked where her father was.  She saw Saelalys Narennis move to care for Matamion who was looking pale.  She led them down a hallway on the first floor.  She saw the Myr woman with her dark hair and olive skin appear on the balcony to the second floor.  Phirona Ormonnis called down to Ayra.

“Your father is up here lass.  He is resting comfortably.

Arya moved to go up the stairwell.  She stopped seeing Syrio roughly manhandling the Faceless Man onto a chair and tying him up severely with rope.

“Release Jaqen H’ghar, Syrio.”

“What?!” her master yelled at her.

“You will not cause us a problem will you Jaqen Hargar.  You owe me Valar Doeharis if my lessons are true.  I have saved you now three times if my count is right.”

The man stared at her with a taciturn countenance.  He looked up at Syrio who glared down at him.

“I will cause you no problems little she-wolf.  I am indeed in your debt.  This is becoming a habit.  You are strong of body and spirit.  I again ask you to come back to Braavos and take up the way of the House of Black and White.  We … no I have waited a long time for you to come.  You are to be our new leader.”

Syrio was shaking with anger.  Arya held up her hand.

“Jaqen … I sense you make this offer with great honor intended.  I will not serve death.  I will become a First Sword though I will never serve a corrupt Sealord or King.”

“HA!” Syrio spat down at the Faceless man with his arms still bound.  “She choose me!” he carped in happiness.

“Arya Stark … I did not take you for a liar” Jaqen told the young Stark girl.

Syrio jammed the man down harder into his seat.

“Syrio!” Arya called out.  She smirked seeing Syrio grind his teeth and lifted the Faceless Man out of his chair.  He started to cut the bindings of his now former captive.

“I do not lie Jaqen H’ghar.”

“Little wolf, since I have met you—you have done nothing but send men to the god of death.  Please do not lie to me.”

Arya stared at the man for a long moment and then smiled.  “You kill per contract.  I only kill to protect my family and serve the realm.  I will never kill for money or for another when I do not agree with them.  Maybe your order should learn that truth.  Learn some honor.”

The man stared at her with eyes that were intense.  He bowed his head fractionally.

“Why are you here anyways?  Shouldn’t you be in Essos creating mayhem there?” Syrio asked the man.

“I have two missions in Westeros.  The first I have now completed.  A man had cheated the Iron Bank of many Iron Crowns.  He has paid for his misdeeds.”

The man paused.  “Your second mission?” Arya prompted.

“Many feel that magic is returning.  Daenerys Targaryen has been given three dragon eggs.  She will find a way to hatch them.  Her time is near it is prophesied.  I am preparing the means to kill her and her dragons.  The Citadel does not wish her dragons to again appear in the skies of Westeros.  Many in Essos fear she will ally with the slave trade and again make Old Valyria rise again and a new age of vile evil will flare out across Essos and now Westeros.”

“The House of Black and White may have lost its way as you imply.  Some of us wonder that ourselves.  But this I will say.  Our order was created because of the heinous scions of Valyria.  We will not allow it to rise again.”

Arya had heard the name Daenerys Targaryen several times since this all began.  She recalled the name of Targaryen.  It had been the mad king that was a Targaryen that had killed her grandfather and uncle before her birth.  In a most heinous manner.  But really, it had all been ancient history to Arya.

Her father and mother did not gladly speak of those times.

She had been surprised that a brother and sister of Rhaegar Targaryen had survived the end of the reign of King Aerys II Targaryen, the "Mad King".  She had paid attention enough to know he was a cruel despot.  Her father had always spoken highly of Rhaegar Targaryen though.  She had heard her father over the years in the feast hall lament several times that he wished Rhaegar had taken the realm over and not his best friend growing up Robert Baratheon. 

Her father would then look off into space.  Arya also knew enough to know that Lyanna her aunt had gone willingly with Rhaegar.  She had never loved Robert Baratheon and she had heard her father say a few times when he did not know she was near say that he had been secretly happy when she had eloped with Rhaegar. Her father had not foreseen Robert’s Rebellion and having to side with his best friend.

The Warden of the North was dragged into a war when he was still coming to grips with his new duties.  He had to honor that bond with Robert Baratheon her father had felt.  She doubted he would have honored it now with years of experience.  Arya was of the opinion that honor was earned not given

Syrio had freed the Faceless Man.  “Please both of you join me as I check on my father.”  The men lined up behind Arya and they went up the stairs and met a smiling Phirona.  “It is always a pleasure to have you back little wolf” the pretty woman told Arya as she hugged the teenager.  Arya always blushed hotly when hugged by Phirona Ormonnis or her partner Saelalys Narennis.  The image of them in bed making love was forever seared into Arya’s mind. 

It had been most enlightening.

They way went down the long hallway to the third door on the left.  The walls plain as the rest of the building.  There was nothing ostentatious in the humbling dwelling place of Merrel.  Phirona opened the door to the room and Arya and her master with the Faceless Man entered the room that her father lay in.

She looked around the small bedroom.  Up against the side of the wall was a double bed with her father in it.  He was thickly covered in quilts and a bear skin.  She saw the large fireplace was filled with logs and a hot fire was burning keeping the room very warm.  Arya saw several hooks on swivels anchored into the hearth stones that had pots on them that had the room smelling strongly of herbs.  Some of them no doubt in her father now.  The Mry woman went to her father and took a cloth out of a bowl and wrung it out.

She placed the cloth on her father’s head.  She gently dabbed his face with the cloth.

“How is he?” Arya asked anxiously.  She walked over to kneel beside her father.  She noticed that Syrio and Jaqen had followed her over to stand by the bed of her father.

“He is gaunt and worn but the potions that Varys gave your father and the increased rations while still horrendously small kept him alive.  He is feverish but I am sure that my and Saelalys potions will conqueror the remaining infection.  Your father is a strong man.  His leg is mess though.”

“It was not properly reset when he was taken to the dudgeons.  Unless Merrel can work his magic your father will never walk without a very heavy limp and with the use of a cane.  He will be cripple.”

“Why hasn’t Merrel healed him now?!” Arya barked with concern for her father making her agitated.  She looked up at the woman pleadingly. 

“I fear that Merrel’s magical ability to heal doesn’t work as well against illness and infection.  It can but it is wasted.  He can only use his magic on a person but once.  If he wastes his energies on this infection he will not heal your father’s leg.  As I understand it, it is paramount that we heal his leg and make him whole again.”

“I hate to say it but people will not rally around a cripple.  Your father will have to fight to win the throne.  That is assured.  He must be hale to do so.”

“What do you mean?  He will use the skills of a Maester to heal my father won’t he?” Arya asked the beautiful woman.

The woman smiled at her.  “No my child.  Merrel’s gift is most assuredly not like the Maester’s skills.  He heals from the heart and the soul.  When he ‘cures’ a person they are as before.”

“What do you mean?” the teenage Stark girl asked the beautiful woman from Myr.

“I will let Merrel explain it to you girl.  My and Saelalys duty is to get your father strong as we can.  He will need his health back when Merrel restores Eddard Stark’s leg.”

“What do you mean?” Arya whined in the frustration of not knowing.

“The Druid will tell you when the time is right dear child.  You and your father are definitely the wolves spoken of in prophecy.  I am most happy.  I had fear as everyone else that the Dragon would be much delayed in her coming back to Westeros to contend with the remainder of the Lions.  The Lions will have torn and disemboweled this land by the time of the Dragon’s arrival.  I much prefer his prophecy.”

“What prophecy?” Arya whined loudly again.  The not knowing was very frustrating.  She looked at Syrio.  He merely shrugged.  He had no true idea.  Only what he had heard whispered in this Druid’s lair.

It was Jaqen H’ghar that spoke up.  “We in the House of Black and White were born in the slave mines of Old Valyria.  There are many prophecies of the Dragon who will rise in the East.  We all had assumed it was Viserys Targaryen that was prophesized.  He was killed by his Dothraki benefactors.  All reports say that his sister is proving to be quite the Khaleesi.”

“We in the House of Black and White now feel that the prophecies were about her.  How this is possible we still debate and wonder.  She was indeed weak when she left Braavos to become Khal Drogo’s wife.  She was payment for her brother’s Dothraki army.  Nothing more.  Yet she may prove to be more.”

“We have heard many prophecies concerning the Dragon who will rise from the East.  Almost all say she will come in a time of winter when Lions rule the land.  The Lions will have secured the realm through terrible and bloody warfare.  Wars that leave all weak.  The Queen will come in and lay waste to that which is left.  The prophecies say she will start with a pure heart but by the time she arrives in Westeros she will be something else.  She will have become hardened and cruel.”

“She will help defeat the Ice King but then will enslave Westeros and Essos.  She will do so for the noblest of reasons but her heart will have become black.”

“We will kill her before we allow that to happen.”  Jaqen paused in his speech.  He looked at Arya intently.  "There are several other prophecies that speak of another path.”  He paused again looking at Arya as if judging her.  “The prophecies are of wolves and dragons.”

Arya stared at Jaqen.  She heard the need.  This woman must be put down if she turned evil!  Still he had said … “What of these other prophecies?”

Jaqen started to speak.

“Arya … Arya …” Arya spun around seeing her father.  He was calling to her weakly.  He had his squint smile on his face.

“Father!” she cried out seeing his eyes lucid.  She threw herself down on the edge of the bed and leaned in to hug her father hard.  “Oh Father!  I was so scared for you.  Syrio and I with lots of help have rescued you from the dudgeons beneath King’s Landing.  We will dispose of Cersei and Joffrey and make you king father!”

Her father petted his daughter tenderly on the back.  She felt him crying softly.

“Oh my precious daughter.  You have saved me.  Varys told me what Joffrey had plotted against me against his mother’s wishes to send me to the Wall.  I owe you my life Arya.  Anything you wish I will grant if it is within my power.”

Arya smiled at her father.  “Being your daughter is all I can I ask for father!”

Eddard smiled and hugged his daughter even tighter.  “I cherish your fealty and loyalty my youngest daughter.  I wish I could say that about my eldest daughter.”

 _What does that mean_ Arya wondered?  Sansa was the perfect daughter.  Always doing as their mother demanded.

“What do we do now father” Arya asked her father.  She was so thankful to have him back.  She had been fighting on pure will.  She had only one goal.  Save her father.  She had no clue on what to do with the Westeros.  She could care less about such things.  Now the realm would soon have its true ruler back.  Her father would know what to do.

She watched her father grimace.  He smiled at her and laid back.  “I don’t know Arya.  My leg is in a bad way.”

“It will be healed soon” Arya told her father earnestly.

He squint smiled at her.  “I wish that is true Arya.”

“Phirona tell him” Arya called over to the dark skinned woman stirring a kettle over the flames.  The woman turned and shook her head a little.

“Eddard Stark I will tell you what I told your daughter.  Merrel, who is a Druid, can heal almost any wound.  I am healing your body of the infection and general exhaustion that harms your body currently.  Merrel will indeed heal your leg.”  She saw Eddard’s disbelieving look.  She smiled greater.  “I cannot explain how his healing magic works.  I will let the man tell you himself.  He will come to your tomorrow when you have had time to recoup more of your strength.  You are a strong man Eddard Stark.  I and Saelalys will restore your general health.  Merrel will restore your leg.”

Arya watched her father look at the woman.  She could tell that her father did not believe the woman.  Arya could see her father was still weak. 

Phirona came over to the bed with a cup full of broth that smelled good to Arya.  “Drink of this Eddard Stark.  It will help fight the infection still in you.  It will strengthen your countenance and it will help you to sleep.  You need to sleep deeply which you could not do in that rank dank dudgeon.”

Eddard took the cup.  He drank the draft down quickly.  He handed the cup back.

“We will talk further tomorrow Arya.  Syrio.”  He saw the other man.  “And you are …”

“I am Jaqen H’ghar.  I have aligned myself with your daughter.  She is the one prophesized by the druids.  As are you.  I wish to see that prophecy come true.”

Arya saw her father squint smile.  He did not believe in magic or prophecy.

Neither did she.  She believed in a bow and quiver full of arrows.  She believed in hard cold forged steel.

Phirona moved to scoot the visitors out of the room.  They all went back down to the first floor.

“Arya we cannot trust this Jaqen H’ghar.  If that is his true name.” Syrio told her with renewed heat in his words.

Arya stared at the man from Braavos.  How could she be sure?  She had saved him three times twice from Syrio Forel himself.

The man looked at her and slowly put his hand into a deep pocket of his all black outfit.  He pulled his hand back out.  He slowly reached out with his hand to show he was no threat.  He urged Arya to extend her hand.  In her hand he put a medium sized coin into it.

Arya looked at it. It was dark with raised iron colored markings and letters.  On the side that was up she saw a man’s head hidden in a hooded robe.  She turned the coin over.  She saw a stylized V inside a D.  She looked up at Jaqen.  She saw a shocked look on Syrio’s face.

“The House of Black and White stands with House Stark.”  Jaqen H’ghar bowed to her.  Syrio still had a shocked look on his face.


	11. Panic in the Pride

Intercession

Panic in the Pride

 

Cersei had had a long day.  It seemed they were all long anymore as she drank a soothing cup of hard arbor wine from the vineyards of Highgarden.  The Lioness had much worrying her and needed something to help relieve the heavy burden that weighed upon her shoulders.  She needed her wine considering how events had gone of late.

She had thought that finally removing her oaf of a husband and arresting Eddard Stark would bring a feeling of peace and wellbeing to Cersei.  She had worked since that fateful night with that damned sorceress to make the prophecies spoken that night to not come true.  Cersei had spent her life since then working to make it not come true and yet it seemed at every turn some other facet of that vile woman’s words came to fruition. 

Cersei had finally achieved the power to make herself the titular head of Westeros.  She would make a new prophecy and show “Maggie the Frog” that she was would make the destiny from now on.  What Cersei needed more than anything else was to get Eddard Stark to the Wall and out of her hair.  She would be alright then.  The goal was so close that Cersei could almost grasp it within her hands.  Joffrey had forced the issue but maybe that was good thing. 

The Insurrection would hopefully follow the Stark up the King’s Road.  Without the crowded streets of King Landing to hide them they should be easily taken on and eliminated.  Damn that Arya Stark.  She had to be involved.  Why couldn’t she be more like her simpering sister Sansa?  All the girl did was bleat and look miserable at her situation.

Sansa’s lack of a backbone infuriated Cersei.  She had suffered heartbreak and had her wishes ignored and her desires thwarted since she could remember.  Cersei had not folded and simpered.  _It wasn’t fair what she had had to endure_! 

She only wished was able to show openly her love for her twin brother Jaime.  She had only been able to sneak away enough time with her true love to keep her sanity while married to that dullard Robert Baratheon.  Gods she had hated the touch of that man.  Coming to their marriage bed drunk and whining for Lyanna Stark.  A dead woman whose name he spoke when he came to Cersei that first time.

 _Gods she had hated that man_!

One thing Cersei was highly looking forward too was getting Joffrey to make an edict that brother and sisters could now marry in Westeros.  The Targaryens had always married within their family.  It had been a tradition among those of Valyrian descent.  They had a desire to keep their Houses pure from each other.

Only the gods knew what those heathens in Dorne practiced in their dry arid land.  They were very liberal in that dusty realm.  There, siblings often married.  She would not be surprised if the people of Dorne did not marry their prized camels.

Cersei looked forward to having Jamie openly on her arm.  Jamie was so beautiful and only he was worthy of being her consort.  He understood her like no other.  True he had his faults like all men.  He was rash and impetuous. 

Cersei grimaced thinking of the whole Bran incident.  She had only wanted to talk to the boy!  Did she have to explain everything to everyone!  Again she wished for equal primogeniture.  She would be Queen now! 

Cersei sighed.  She would work through Joffrey.  Gods the boy needed so much seasoning.

Cersei finished the last of the wine in her goblet.  Looking at the bottom of her goblet Cersei moved to the table to refill the gold cup.  She was in her heavy loose fitting nightgown.  Weariness weighed on her body and soul.  She was in some serious need of rest and relaxation her body told Cersei.  It galled Cersei that she did not have Jamie to warm her bed.  He was out fighting the remaining forces of Eddard Stark.  Her sweet brother would soon take care of the last of them.

The Tyrion situation would have to be dealt with.  A finesse touch to sooth the rancor that had started to ripple across the realm.  What had gotten into Catelyn Stark’s mind to take a High Prince?  She hated her dwarf brother but she supposed she would have to make sure he was returned safe and sound.  A Lannister always paid their debt.  She would get her little dwarf brother back and send Catelyn Tully back to Winterfell all spaded and silenced.  Cersei secretly hoped that something untoward happened to her brother.

She was prepared to go to her royal bed now and to … ahem—take matters into her own hands.  She had a nice bodice ripper from Essos that she was finding most pleasurable reading.  The author was not afraid to be graphic in all the best ways.  “The Corsair of Qarth” had as the main character a pirate raiding ships from Slavers Bay to the lands of Yi Ti.

He always dispatched his foes in the most graphic and fun ways while he bedded the women he captured.  His well-endowed manhood pleasuring the women most graphically in all their holes.  Cersei felt her pulse quickening.  She had ended her reading last night with the Corsair captain, Shormeir na Dhokln, about to the bed the Summer Island Captain Jalha Xhara.  She was tall and voluptuous.  Cersei was shivering wanting to get to her defilement and the dark black woman loving every minute of it.

Cersei would then be ready to let her fingers to do some talking of their own to her slit and clit.

She had just gotten in bed and opened the book and leafed to the proper page.  These books were very expensive with the new style of publishing works of literature on pages of papyrus instead of parchment.

There was a sudden commotion she could hear outside her door.  She had made sure that her and her three children were heavily guarded.  The sounds were muted through the thick door but she could tell that a big commotion was going on outside her door.

The door was suddenly thrown open.   Cersei was shocked that anyone would dare enter her room unannounced.  She relaxed a fraction seeing it was her son the boy king.  Cersei was about to berate her errant son for being so rude to intrude into her privacy thus.  If he had come thirty minutes later he would have been treated to quite a show he was not ready for.

At the doorway was Sandor Clegane looking very uncomfortable.  She saw the five red cloaks she had posted at each doorway at her and her children’s doors.  Cersei had heavy patrols patrolling the hallways.  Her at times stupid son had not thought to do even that!

Cersei was about to belittle her son when she stopped. The look on his face put her in immediate unease. 

“Mommy, mommy … tell me what to do mommy!” her son whined as he rushed into the room.  She looked at the door at Sandor.  He smirked closing the door giving them some privacy.

 _Gods I need another cup of wine_! Cersei thought.  Her son was definitely not his father Jamie Lannister.  Again she wondered what had gone wrong with her son.  She had raised him with all the love in her heart.  She felt a pulse of unease run through her body.  She had promised herself she would not treat her children as she had been treated.  _She had succeeded hadn’t she_?

Her son was looking around confused and outright fearful.  What had gotten into him?

Cersei Lannister took a deep breath.  She centered herself.  Damnit she wished Jamie was here.  She needed her rock in this rising maelstrom buffeting her in its wrath and fury.  Cersei Lannister would have to do in meeting her son’s consternation.  There was no other to meet the need of the situation. 

“ _Yeeesssssssss_ Joffrey?” Cersei could not help her condescending tone she used with her son sometimes.  He was of her body but he was a … what … failure? … that couldn’t be—he was a Lannister after all …”

Her son looked at her with his big green eyes.  He licked his lips nervously.

“I am King.  I have the right to do as I please” he stated with a note of uncertainty in his voice.

“You are right Joffrey.  You are king.  What has you troubled Joffrey?”  Cersei led her son forward.

“I have the right to do as I please” her son repeated himself like a parrot mimicking its favorite phrase.

Cersei did not like the sound or tone of that but she needed to know what had her son so agitated.

“Just tell me Joffrey.  I can’t help you until you tell me what is happening.  What has you so upset son?”

Joffrey stared at her again.  She saw defiance but that was quickly replaced with raw naked fear.

“The Kingsguard are mine.  To do with as I see fit!”

Cersei thought it a simplistic way to look at whatever had Joffrey agitated but she merely nodded her head to encourage her son to just get it out.

“I know Joffrey … what had you ordered them to do” Cersei knew that he had used them in some manner to have made his comments.  What it could be this late in the evening she had no idea.  _Gods she needed another cup of wine_!

“I sent Ser Boros Blount, Ser Mandon Moore, and Ser Preston Greenfield to the dungeons to fetch Eddard Stark.  I needed to interrogate the traitor before his trail tomorrow.  I sent several groups of Red and Gold Cloaks to make sure the transfer went well.” 

Her son paused looking unsure.  Cersei was shocked that her son would do such a thing behind her back.  She had made it clear that they needed to follow the script she had laid out.  To try Eddard Stark and then show clemency and banish him to the wall.  He was a High Lord.  Killing him could spark all-out war. 

War was tricky.  She was not sure if she could control all the factors if she had to work the levers of power through others.  She was brilliant but so hemmed in by convention and custom.

“Okay Joffrey.  Where is he?  What is the problem?”  Cersei started to fret.  Had her son somehow gotten the man killed?!  That would not do!

“They were ambushed” Joffrey cried out looking around like a confused sheep.

“What?” Cersei gasped.  “How many men did we lose?  Is Eddard Stark still alive?  Did we capture Arya Stark and her damned fucking Water Dancer?” Cersei asked wondering how bad the situation could be.  She would tolerate her son’s disobedience and ineptitude if it meant they had captured that damned girl and her instructor.  The instructor she would have drawn and quartered.  Arya the bitch would still make an extremely valuable royal hostage and eventual bargaining chip to be married off.

She would make sure she sent Arya to a man Cersei truly hated.  Would serve him right.  She would love to force the wild child on Stannis.  His molars would explode with all his teeth grinding.  She thought about Oberyn but the pervert would only add Arya to the festivities.  The girl was probably a deviant anyways.  Her wild nature, slightly androgynous look and roughhewn attire made her look like a rug muncher anyways.

“No mother.  They all _escaped_!”

“WWWHHHAATTTTTTTTTTT!” Cersei screamed in pure shock and fear.

“I told you mother.  They ambushed the guards and the Kingsguard.  They all escaped.”

Cersei stared at her son horrified.  Her first instinct was to jump out of bed and rush over to smack her son for his stupidity.   _He was a fucking imbecile_!  Then she calmed.

In a way, his insolence in disobeying saved them hours.  If not for his disobedience they still wouldn’t know of the prison break. 

But Still!  Oh my gods was the next thought that crossed Cersei’s mind.  EDDARD STARK HAD ESCAPED!  Holy fuck!  They were in a world of shit!  _How though_ Cersei thought wildly!

“How did they get into the dungeons?!”

“I don’t know!” Joffrey bleated out with that big eyed scared look on his face.  His face seemed frozen in that muse.

“Didn’t you ask?”

“Ask what?” Joffrey returned confused.

Cersei threw her hands up and got out of bed.

“I need to speak to Ser Mandon Moore.”  Jamie seemed to think he was the best of the lot with him and Barristan no longer in the Kingsguard.  “I need him to debrief me on what has happened.”

“I think he is dead” Joffrey said in a small voice.

“WWWHHATTTTT!” Cersei screamed.  This was going from a bad dream to full out nightmare.

“I told you they were ambushed!” Joffrey shouted back.  “Two of Kingsguard were killed I think and one of them severely injured.   They were ambushed!” Joffrey wailed again.

Cersei hurried over to the table with the bucket of ice that had the wine bottle in it.  She ripped out the cork and put the mouth of the bottle to her mouth and took several big gulps.  That calmed her.

“We are in a lot of deep shit” she calmly told her soon.

/////////

It was an hour later in the meeting room that she had often used since the death of her dear departed deceased dope of a husband Robert Baratheon.  Gods she liked thinking that to herself.

Cersei had called all her family together.  She wanted them all in one place.  She had the traitor’s daughter woken up and brought to the meeting.  With this new situation, Cersei may truly need Sansa now.  With Eddard Stark now on the loose Cersei would need something to keep Eddard at bay.  She had also summoned Varys to the room.

Cersei desperately needed to chew _someone’s_ ass off.

“Tell me again why you did not see this coming Varys?” Cersei yelled at her master of whispers.  Gods it riled Cersei that she needed this man.

“You mean Joffrey moving behind your back?” Varys returned placidly.

 _Gods she hated this man_ Cersei raged to herself.  Varys knew exactly what she had meant but he found a way to twist the knife of her son’s insolence.  She pinched her temples with her thumb and middle finger.  _Gods I need a drink_!  She needed to keep her wits for the moment though.

“I mean the escape of Eddard Stark from the dungeons Varys!”

“Oh.  I see.  Forgive me my regent.”

Cersei glared at the man.  One day she sincerely hoped she would no longer need this worm of a man.  She would have her brother gut the vile eunuch.  But, until and if they day came, she would have to deal with the man.

“What have you been able to determine about the attack down in the dungeons Varys?”

“It would seem that the forces that your son sent down to the dungeons to fetch Eddard Stark ran into the force that was freeing him.  I cannot be sure of course but it seems that the forces that freed the Stark had scouts out.  They saw the forces that Joffrey sent and were able to ambush them.”

Cersei had to agree with that assessment.  It made sense to her.  If Joffrey had not sent the men to fetch Eddard Stark when he did they would have escape unseen and unheard.

“How did they get in?  We had two whole companies of men guarding that dungeon.  It should have been impossible.”

“My regent.  First you have to half that force since you have two shifts.  I still agree that should have been enough.  If the forces had come from above they definitely would have been seen and fought.  The alarm would have been sounded and more, many more, reinforcements would have been sent in.  The insurgents would have been overwhelmed and killed.”

“That obviously did not happen Varys.  So what did happen?”

“I have interviewed several lieutenants who survived the fight.  They are positive they heard a male, most probably Syrio telling his forces to retreat to the River.  That would be the underground river that runs deep underneath the dungeons.”

“Isn’t that the river I ordered investigated?  Why wasn’t it done?” Cersei asked.

“This was reported to you my regent.”

Cersei ground her teeth.  The regent paused a moment growling; was she becoming Stannis.  With a snarl Cersei shook her head dispelling that thought from her mind.  She knew Varys had reported this to her but she wanted to hear it again.  “Just answer the questions damnit!”

“Three times men were sent to explore the river that flows past the dock.  Thrice, none of the men were ever heard from again.  We would have had a revolt if we had sent more men to what all had to come to consider certain death.”

Cersei did indeed remember the conversation.  She had decided to back off.  With all the men she was losing with Arya attacking so brazenly she had decided to not press the issue.  She could not risk any more losses till reinforcement arrived from Casterly Rock.

“You never did give me a reason for this Varys.  Give me a theory man!”

Varys regarded her calmly.  “I had a theory but I did not express it earlier.”

“You had better have a good reason for this Varys” Cersei grounded out.

“I did not start to think along these lines my Regent till the string of seemingly unconnected deaths throughout the Red Keep.”

Varys paused and Cersei ground her teeth.  She glared at the man to continue.

“As you may know Cersei but I spent some of my youth in Braavos.”

“What of it?”

“I have seen the work of the Faceless Men.  I now believe that one of these assassins has allied themselves with Arya Stark.”

Cersei blanched.  _My gods if the House of Black and White were in league with Arya Stark_.  Her blood ran cold as she felt her heart flutter.

“Why would those ghouls help Arya Stark?  There is no way in the seven hells that she could have hired them.”

“That I cannot say my Regent.  I am only theorizing with all evidence I now have at my disposal.  I cannot prove that I am correct in this.  But in my interview with the lieutenants they told me something that reinforces my belief that a Faceless Man is working with Arya Stark.  There was two groups of men moving in to take Arya’s father.  The second group had taken an extra few minutes to form up.  They came in on the fight after it had begun.  The forces decimating the first force of Red and Gold Cloaks along with the three Kingsguard should have been able to be attacked from the flank.”

“That did not happen.  A man dressed in all black from head to foot attacked this second group from the side totally unseen until this man was in their ranks killing them with two swords that moved so fast the men could not even follows the speed of the whirling blades.  This man’s attack put the second group into disarray and allowed the insurgents to attack the second group as they were thrown into confusion by what I am sure is the same Faceless man that killed the men in the Red Keep.”

“I cannot be sure of course but I think we will find that this man most probably killed all the sentries that had been posted on the river entrances.  This ghoul also killed the search parties we sent down the underground river.  All of this is supposition of course but I am now convinced tying all these events together.”

Cersei processed this.  She did not like it but it made sense.  Damnit she wished she had Jamie here.  She wished she had Barristan Selmy here but her fool son had taken care of that.  Back and forth Cersei paced, her lip sucked in as she gnawed her lower lip.

She needed to see for herself.  She saw Sandor Clegane along the back wall trying to look inconspicuous. 

“Sandor” Cersei barked.

“Yes my Queen” the man spoke with a sneer.  The man was mad at the world, not that she couldn’t blame him.

“I want you to flood the dungeon with men.  I want that place swarming with men.  I will be going down in two hours.”

“Are you sure that is wise Regent?”

“With your able body care I am sure it will be Sandor.  If anything happens to me I will have left word to have you executed if you survive.”

The man smiled at her.  “I will remember that my Regent.  I would then say you had better survive.”

The man left the quarters to set in motion everything that the Regent had demanded.

“You don’t need me to go with you do you mommy?” Joffrey whimpered out.

Gods, does the boy even have a backbone Cersei wondered to herself spitefully.  He should be demanding to lead the expedition to the dudgeons.  To led by example.  This is what Jaime would do.  Cersei was about to shit herself frankly but she needed to get a feel for what had happened.  With Eddard Stark now loose with that hellion of a daughter the world had gotten a lot more dangerous.  If Varys was correct that a Faceless Man had joined Arya the world had become exponentially more dangerous for Cersei and her children.

 _How had she done it_!  Arya was only a fourteen year old girl.  It was impossible what she was doing.

“No Joffrey.  Stay here and protect your sister and brother Joffrey.  Do you think you can do that?” she asked in a condescending tone.

Her poor son never even noticed.

“Yes!  I will at my own great peril save my brother and sister if need be.  The Lion of Lannister will save his siblings.”

Cersei looked over at the silent flower that had long ago wilted.

“Sansa!”

The girl looked at her startled.

“Your sister.  Will she sacrifice you to achieve her goals?”

Sansa looked at her steadily. “Yes she will.  We have no great love for each other.”

Cersei was shocked to hear that.  This was not good.  She had to hope that Eddard Stark would show restraint.  That had been his undoing that had allowed her to take the power for him.  Was he the type of man to learn from his mistakes?  Fortunately, he did not know that it was Sansa that had betrayed him to the Lannisters.  Thank the gods that Sansa had been love sick with her son, Joffrey. 

Too bad she was the daughter of a traitor.

“Let’s hope it does not come down to that Sansa.  I will sacrifice you if I have to too protect my children.”

The tall redhead merely lowered her head.  Cersei saw tears running down the tall redhead’s cheeks.  She made no sound.

Cersei hated weakness in anyone.  She stared at Joffrey.  She seethed at all this weakness around her.  She admired Sansa more than her son at the moment though.  At least she did not pretend to be something she was not. 

//////////

Cersei was heading down to the dungeons.  Sandor had so many Red and Gold cloaks in the rooms and hallways that she was nearly tripping over them.  He had stripped the City bare to make sure that no more ambushes would occur in the walls of the Red Keep. 

She had with her Varys and the two lieutenants.    

She had received a report in the past two hours from Sandor on their loses.  The insurgents had killed sixty-two men in the upper halls and down in the dungeons.  She guessed the Faceless Man had helped greatly with those numbers. 

She had also received a report from Grand Maester Pycelle.  The news had not been good with Cersei being told that it was Ser Mandor Moore that had survived the fight.  His right knee was ruined though.  He had several sever cuts and a massive concussion.  Ser Boros Blount and Ser Preston Greenfield had been cut down in the combat. 

Cersei gnawed her lip.  She was running out of Kingsguard!  She needed to promote more men post haste.  The situation was becoming ridiculous. 

Cersei came to the hall where the main battle had occurred.  Many of the dead were still lying on the stones.  She walked among them.  Their bodies stiffening into grotesque shapes.  Cersei made herself look on them.  She would not show any weakness to the men around her.

“How were they decimated so badly?” she asked aloud.  She glared around herself.

One of the Lieutenants spoke up.  “We were not expecting any attack.  We did not notice that the torches across this wall of the large room were out.  With our torches lit we were night blind.  The enemy hid in the shadows and waited till we were almost on them.  Their sudden attack was devastating.  The arrow fire decimated us at such close range.  There were more than a few archers with the volume of arrows striking our forces.  They had a man fighting with a rapier.  I have never seen anything like him my Regent. He was death on two feet.

 _Damn Meryn Trant for not doing his job_ the Regent groused to herself.  If he would have dispatched this Syrio Forel and taken Arya like he was supposed too she would not be in this situation.

They went down to the dungeons itself.  She saw nothing out of the ordinary here.

“How were they able to get into the cells?  The doors were locked I assume.  They had better been.”  She glared again at Varys.

“The doors were all locked.  I cannot explain this my Regent.  I wonder if this was the Faceless Man’s work again.”

Cersei blanched hearing that most probably explanation.  For Arya to have such a man in league with her.  The thought was terrifying.  She had heard so many stories of the Faceless Men of Braavos.  They were said to be able to walk through walls and to walk right by you unseen or unheard.  Cersei shivered fearfully at the thought.

Head down Cersei walked around Eddard’s cell looking for any clue.  There was nothing here of import either. She went to the jailors office.  Again nothing of import.  Well, except for the dead jailor of course.  His head was sitting on his neck at a most extreme angle.  Cersei had felt a little sick witnessing that. She swallowed her bile and walked out of the office.

They took the stairs down to the dock many levels below the jail cells.  On the way they passed many dead bodies.  The bodies did not seem to have fought their attackers.  The same on the docks.

Cersei looked around.  Syrio Forel was obviously a master of the sword but these men had been taken out without even a fight.  She believed fully now in Varys theories.  Arya had a Faceless Man in league with her.

She had seen enough.

//////////

She was back in the hall with her family.  Cersei sighed at her predicament.  She could relax now though.  Upon her return Cersei had quadrupled the guard in the Red Keep.  She was pulling the patrols back from King’s Landing.  Eddard Stark had gone to ground.  He was still a cripple though.  Cersei smirked thinking of Willis Tyrell.  He was cripple and no one wanted to follow a cripple.  People’s prejudices would keep Eddard from acquiring too much power.

Cersei had beaten Eddard once.  She would beat him again.  He could have King’s Landing for now.  The Regent would cede for now the slums to her antagonist.  Cersei had Eddard’s daughter and she had the Iron Throne.  In time her father’s forces would arrive.  She would then have the ability to swamp King’s Landing and flush out the wolves.  No.  Rats.  They were rats to her.

She would bid her time till reinforcements came.  The most fervent hope Cersei felt was that Jamie would soon come back to her.  Maybe he could capture Catelyn Stark to put more pressure on Eddard.

Cersei drank a deep draught of wine considering her current situation.  She had Sansa. That would hold Eddard off.  The man loved his children fiercely.  Cersei had the forces to hold off the small group opposing her till reinforcements arrived.

She would prove victorious.  She was a Lannister after all.


	12. Negotiations

Intercession

Negotiations

 

Arya ran up the steps to the roof that was on top of the four story building.  The rainy weather had finally cleared out and she wanted some dry fresh air.  The young woman needed to see the blue sky.  The steps led up to a small hutch that had a small door.  She opened the door and looked around.  The building was as tall or taller than the other buildings in the general area so Arya did not have to worry about people looking down on her.  In her everyday clothing she did not stand out anyways. 

Her shorn hair had started to grow back out but with her flat chest she still looked like an adolescent boy from distance as much as any girl.  She looked down at her chest and sighed.  Sansa had gotten her share of the bosom quotient as well.  She saw the two care giving women of the domicile had put up sheets and clothing up on lines they had run from the central shack out to iron poles that had been driven into the outside walls of the buildings.  Arya saw that most of the surrounding buildings had the same setup to dry clothes.  The night had been dry and slightly windy. 

Phirona Ormonnis and Saelalys Narennis had put up a full load of clothes on the lines.  This was additional camouflage for the young Stark to blend in with.  She walked between the lines to the Eastern edge of the building.  She looked out over Blackwater Bay.  The Regent had closed off the port.  All Arya saw were small fishing boats plying the waters of the bay.  No other vessels could be seen on the waters.

The sun had just risen over the water.  A morning breeze was beginning to blow off the water and the cool breeze felt good on Arya’s skin.  She looked off to her left at a building that abutted her abode but was one story lower.  She saw three women and their children on their building’s roof.  They were terribly excited.  The children were jumping up and down and pointing.  The women were clearly looking to the west.

Arya felt her heart palpitate.  Were they witnessing an attack that the ravens had somehow missed?  Then she noticed that the women and children were not looking down or even straight ahead.  They were looking up and pointing to the sky. 

Arya ran down the clothes lines that were angled to the east of the building to take advantage of the breezes coming off the body of water to the East.

She came out of the lines and looked up.  Her mouth fell open.  She stared up into the sky and started to jump up and down herself.  This was so cool.  She ran back to the shack and bolted down the steps of the stairwell that had halls that came to the back and forth stairwell on each floor.

The teenager sprinted down to the bottom floor since the caregivers would be feeding all of her pack mates. She smiled at that.  Arya had come to think of these men and women as her fellow companions of a ferocious wolf pack.  She burst into the hall and ran down it to the common meeting and eating area.  She turned the corner into the communal area.  Most of the Druids and the none Valyrian Honor guards of Rhaegar were there.  She saw Syrio and Merrel talking quietly at the end of the main table.

“Come!  Come quick.  You have to see this!” Arya spoke excitedly pointing up through the ceilings.  She saw Syrio looking up at the ceiling where she was pointing.

“I don’t see a leak in the ceiling Arya” he told her calmly.  “Or do you know have the eyes of an eagle.  Is there a rabbit you will strike from on high?”

Arya rolled her eyes.  “Hardy har har Syrio.  Come see.  Come up to the roof Syrio.  All of you.  You need to see this! It is _awesommmme_!”  Arya could see her enthusiasm was starting to affect the people in the room.  Their curiosity was piqued.

“What is it?” Styve Grandison asked Arya a trace of humor in his voice at her antics.  He was in the middle of a stack of pancakes and clearly wanted to finish the delicious fare.  As he looked at Arya, Phirona poured some fresh blueberries on his pancakes.  The man was practically drooling.

“I’m not telling!  You will have to come see for yourself.  It is awesome!”  She saw Syrio and Merrel look at each other.  Kiran and several other Druids had finished their breakfast.  They all had smiles on their faces at the excitement of the teenage Stark girl.  She did not mind.  Their minds would be blown. She ran back out the room and down the hall.  The stairwell echoed with Arya’s footfalls pounding back up the stairwell.  The door burst open with Arya bounding out on the rooftop.  Arya noticed a lot more people were out on the roofs now looking up and pointing.  Most were laughing and happy but some for some reason seemed afraid.

She heard the more adventurous of her companions pounding up the steps.  With the morning breeze blowing on her back Arya moved to the west edge of the building and looked up at the sky.  Gods it was beautiful.  She heard her companions coming out the stairwell and out onto the rooftop.  The companions of the teenage direwolf moved to join her on the west end of the building.  They were milling around and then she heard them quiet down and come up to stand beside her.  Arya turned to her right and left to look at her companions.  They were all staring to the west half way up from the horizon.

In that quadrant of the sky was a red comet that was so bright in the sky that Arya thought she could almost reach out and touch the comet.  The skies had been cloudy for the last week continuously and the comet had been able to grow to its bright appearance in the sky now unseen.  The head was large and seemed to glow and pulse in the sky.  The tail was long and so red it looked like blood in the sky.  Those looking at the comet tail saw the swirls in it that seemed to fray into eddies in the sky. 

It was beautiful.

“Well I will be damned” Merrel softly spoke.  He looked down at Arya.  He stared intently at her for some reason.  “I had only hoped … its true—the prophecies are all true.”  The man looked up reverently at the sky again before turning his gaze back down at Arya.  “It is only fitting that you be the first to see this” he murmured before looking up into the sky at the red comet again.

More and more people were coming up to the rooftops of King’s Landing and staring up at the red comet that silently marched across the sky.  More of Arya’s companions streamed up to the rooftop to join her.  They were murmuring among themselves as they craned their necks up to see the comet in the western sky.

She looked around her at all the people.  They were so excited.  She was excited.  She was soon surrounded by most of her wolf pack.  They were all talking and murmuring.  She saw Matamion and Jaehaegar Velnalys come up onto the rooftop.  Jaehaegar was helping Matamion who had his ribs set and tightly bound.  He was grimacing leaning on his old friend.  Their faces were filled with wonder seeing the red comet in the sky burning brightly.

They got excited.  Arya had to smirk seeing Matamion grimace and hold his ribs. He calmed down after that as he talked to his fellow Valyrian in what Arya assumed must be high Valyrian.  It was indeed a beautiful language.

Arya enjoyed the comet burning bright red in the sky.  It was so beautiful.  As she looked she quickly came to understand that almost all the adults saw portent in the comet in the sky.  They were excitedly saying that it was satisfying prophecies they had heard and many believed in.

She heard the men from Westeros saying that the comet meant that a king would rise up and unite all of Westeros under his banner.  That Westeros would enter into a golden age.  Javer Goodbrook spoke of a prophecy he heard from the Iron Islands saying that the drowned god would sweep a large wave over all the land drowning the foes of House Greatjoy.  Styve Grandison said he had heard of a prophecy from Qarth saying that the warlocks of the House of the Undying had said to look for such a comet.  That when it appeared it meant that they would spread their influence over all the world.

She heard of prophecies from the Dothraki, Qohor, Highgarden, Volantis and other lands.  The Valyrians were speaking to each other excitedly.  She did recognize the world “Targaryen” many times.  She smiled.  Of course that white haired and purpled eyed people would have their own prophecies.

Arya was surprised that so many different people and cultures had a prophecy concerning of a red comet.  She thought that was funny in itself.  In fact she found it so funny she started to laugh hard.  Her companions started to smile and chuckle looking down at her.

Syrio told her of a prophecy that said that Braavos would rule the Free Cities when a red comet was in the sky and their caregiver from Myr told him, no, it was Myr that would rule the free cities.  She heard the Druids speaking of Wolves and Dragons excitedly.

Arya could not help her laughing.  She fought a losing battle with the giggles.  She in fact started laughing so hard she fell on the pebbles on the rooftop and rolled around.  Rolling from side to side Arya laughed so hard she had to start holding her stomach.  She saw many of her companies cease their inspection of the red comet and look down at her with soft smiles on her face.

Syrio got an exasperated look on his face after several minutes of watching his student make a fool of herself rolling around on the rooftop in front of him. 

“Arya what is your problem girl.  You are making a fool of yourself!  What is so freaking funny Arya!” he half laughed down at her.

Arya sat up on her butt and looked around at all her companions and people she had come to think of as friends.

“I’m sorry.  It is just so funny.  I heard prophecies from around the world.  I swear I heard twenty different prophecies that pertain to that comet we are all looking at.  Each country or people look at that comet and they say it is for them.  The comet appears now and because of the comet the prophecies say whom it speaks to will come into power or take over their enemies.

“ _Andddd_?” Syrio asked her.  He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Don’t you see it Syrio!  I mean you said that the red comet means Braavos will rule all the Free Cities and Phirona Ormonnis says that it is Myr that will come to rule the Free Cities.  I heard various Houses of Westeros will rule the land.  That is if the Drowned God doesn’t drown us all first.  I heard Qarth will rule all.  The Dothraki will have this Stallion Who Will Mount the World.  The Valyrians are all excited in their own tongue.  The Druids are all excited about wolves and dragons.”

“ _Annnddddd_?” Syrio asked again.

“You all can’t be right!  Only one of the prophecies at most can be right!”

She saw the men and women looking down at her start at that.  They then looked around at each other and started to smirk.  They were beginning to see what Arya was saying.  She knew that secretly that all thought that their own people’s prophecy was the true one.

“What do _you_ think Arya?” Syrio asked her exasperated.

“Hell if I know Syrio.  All I know is that a week ago that comet was not in the sky.  Now it is.  It won’t be there tomorrow or maybe it will be a month from now before it disappears.  I just know it is pretty and will be gone soon.  I am going to enjoy it while it lasts.”

“When you put it that way I can see your point” Syrio chuckled down at his disciple.  He held his hand down to the young Stark girl and helped her up.

Arya had calmed down and looked around.  “I hope I did not anger anyone with my laughter.  It just struck me funny hearing all those conflicting prophecies claiming the red comet is meant for them.”

She saw smirks and laughter in the eyes of those around her.  The only ones who seemed to have not noticed her antics were the three Valyrians.  They were staring intently at each other speaking in their own tongue gravely.  Merrel was with them talking to them in their native tongue. 

Arya was impressed with that.  She wished she could speak their language.

After ten minutes her companions started to filter back into the building.  She watched Syrio go down.  She wandered over to the group still on the roof.  The Valyrians looked at her intently as she walked up.  In fact they regarded her with such focus she started to feel awkward.  Merrel seemed to notice and reached out and gripped her shoulder smiling.

“Forgive us Arya” he spoke and the Valyrians seemed to realize their stares and smiled at her.

Matamion grimaced and spoke “We see much in the comet like everyone else Arya Stark.  We have many prophecies in our culture.  There are a few that speak of a red comet. These prophecies say that Magic will return when a red comet is in the sky.  That a Dragon Lord will rise out of the east and return with three dragons.  We had hoped Viserys Targaryen was the prophesized one.”

“Who is he?”

“Was Arya.  He was the son of King Aerys II Targaryen, the "Mad King".  He was killed by Khal Drogo.  Rhaegar was his first son but he was killed at the Trident.  All that is left is his sister Daenerys Targaryen.  She is pregnant with Khal Drogo’s son.  Some of us argue that she is the dragon” Matamion glanced at the female Valyrian standing beside him “but I believe that it is her son she carries to whom the comet portends.”

“What if she has a girl?” Arya asked.  It was a fifty, fifty proposition.

Arya saw confusion come over the three Valyrian’s faces.  They looked at each other and talked in their native tongue.

Matamion then turned his focus back to Arya “Well, we don’t know.  It just has to be.  The prophecy says only that the Dragon Lord will appear from the east.  It must mean that a King will restore House Targaryen to power and bring dragons back.  These prophecies are clear that the Dragon Lord will come from the east.  We had hoped it would be Viserys. He is dead now.  Now we must wait another generation.  Man that sucks.”

Arya looked at them confused again.

Merrel stepped in.  “What they mean Arya is now they will have wait another generation for the Valyrian ruler to come back from the East.  They will be too old to be any part of that return.  Thus it ‘sucks’”.

Arya could understand that.  She was now involved in first saving her father from death and now she was going to help him sit on the Iron Throne.  She would never be forced to let that go by!  She could understand Jaehaegar and Matamion’s consternation at thinking they were part of great times only to find out that return was yet a generation away.

She remembered hearing the name of Daenerys spoken in their high Valyrian.

“I can’t speak for your prophecy Matamion and Jaehaegar but these are great times.  Help me restore my father to the Iron Throne.  Help me in my hour of need” Arya asked the Valyrians in an intense voice.  She looked them squarely in the eye making her appeal.

The two men and Valyrian woman smiled at her.  Matamion spoke to her “I think we will.  There is something Valyrian about you Arya Stark.  You would have been a great wife to the Valyrian ruler.  We had thought to go to Lys and find a Blackfyr wife for our future king.  None could match your fire and passion though.”  He paused and then laughed softly.  “Of course he would have to have a strong ego.  I feel you would be protecting him and not the other way around.”

The three Valyrians left talking in their beautiful tongue to go back downstairs.  Saelalys Narennis paused before she went down the stairwell back into the building.  The short Valyrian turned to look at Arya.  “There are those of us Arya who feel the dragon is Daenerys.  We are few and all female.  Dragons can change sex.  My companions confuse beliefs with reality.  The future Queen will need a strong mate Direwolf.  Remember this when the time comes.”  She looked at Arya with her violet eyes.  She was definitely considering saying something more.    She tipped her head to Arya and was gone.

“Well that was strange” Arya said to herself.

She had not noticed that Merrel was still with her off to her right.  “The Valyrian men are mistaken in their beliefs” he told Arya softly.

Arya turned to look at Merrel with a questioning look.

“The Valyrians like most societies are patriarchal.  Our order could care less who rules: female or male.  We are not blinded.”

Arya spent a few seconds deciphering what Merrel was saying.

“You are saying that this Daenerys is the prophesized one like Saelalys believes.  Shouldn’t the Valyrian’s know their own prophecies?”

“As I was saying Arya, the Valyrians blind themselves.  We have heard from our brothers in Essos.  Ravens have come to us.  We have not shared this news with any but you Arya.  You are the Direwolf.”  The man paused looking intently at Arya.  After a long moment he shook his head in the affirmative.  He had been satisfied in what he saw.  “The child was still born.  Daenerys Targaryen has brought three dragons into the world.  She will end slavery and she will defeat the Ice King—“

“Who?”

“And take the Iron Throne.  That part we are not sure of.  Will it be Wolf or Dragon?”

“My father will be King!  He is already married!  To my mother!”

Merrel held up his hand.  “That is true.  You father taking the throne will be most fortuitous.  That means our prophecies are ascendant.  You are right Arya.  Only one prophecy can be true.”  He smiled down at hers.  “You are making our prophecy take ascendency and you do not even know it.”

“You have two older brothers do you not Arya?”

“Yes I do.  Robb is the eldest.  Well I think he is older than Jon.  Jon is my bastard brother.”

“Is he?”

“Yes.  My father had Jon with some woman he will not name to protect her honor.”

Merrel smiled at her.  “What happened to your Aunt?”

“My father says she ran off with Rhaegar Targaryen.  He says she was in love with him.  She died from some malady.”

“Did your father see the corpse?”

“I … I do not know.”

“If Daenerys returns to Westeros as I predict she will she will need a spouse.  Our prophecy speaks of the wolf and dragon becoming one.”

“Robb—“ Arya began.

“No Arya.  Tell me of Jon.”

“Jon … but he is a bastard … he has no line to the throne.  He has gone to the Wall to serve the Night’s Watch.  He has taken vows.”

“Arya when it comes to the Iron Throne believe me, nothing is set in stone or is that iron.”

Arya groaned at his humor.

“Is Jon a good man?  I am told he looks much like you.”

“Yes.  My mother has always hated that the bastard looks like the father more than her own sons.”

“But what about you Arya.”

Arya snorted.  “I am the black sheep of the family.  My father has protected me from my mother and her stupid ways.  Sansa may want to simper over some stupid boy or another but not me!”

“Yes.  I have seen your fascination with Phirona Ormonnis and Saelalys Narennis.”

Arya could not stop herself.  She blushed furiously.

“Don’t worry Arya.  I will not tell anyone else till it is the proper time.”

Arya’s eyes went large.  Was he threatening her?!  The Druid saw the consternation in Arya’s eyes.

“I am sorry Arya.  Let me rephrase that.  I will not reveal your secret till you are ready.  Though your father suspects.”

Arya’s eyes went even larger.

“Worry not Arya.  Why do you think he won’t allow your mother to betroth you to anyone?

Arya sagged in relief.

“I now think we have blinded ourselves.  I now see clearly.  A dragon can change sex indeed.” He smiled down at Arya.  “Remember this Arya.  To a dragon all are the same in the end.  I feel you and Daenerys Targaryen have much in common.  Come Arya.  It is time I negotiate with your father.”

“Negotiate with my father?  What do you mean?”

“I will heal your father. It will be costly to me and I will demand a price.  It is a fair price.  Like the Faceless Men I require something precious from the persons I heal.  Also, we will need to speak of your future.”  The man smiled at her.  “You have a dragon to tame.”

Arya eyes went large again.  “You mean I will fly a dragon?!”

Merrel chuckled his eyes twinkling “In a manner of speaking.  Come.  Let us go and shape destiny my young Direwolf.”

Merrel took Arya down the stairwell to the second floor to the room that Eddard Stark was convalescing in.  Arya was always happy to see her father.  She smiled at what she saw.  It had only been six days since her father had been saved from the dungeons of the Red Keep.  He was looking so much better.  His skin color had returned and he looked like he had begun to put weight back on.

Her father was sitting up and reading over some parchments.  He looked up and smiled large seeing his daughter in the doorway.

“Arya! My daughter filled with the wolf!  The daughter who saved me!”  Eddard called out spreading his arms out wide.  Arya ran to the bed and plopped down on the edge of the bed and leaned in hugging her father hard.  He had first grimaced at that but he now pulled her in tight.  He was indeed healing.

They spent several minutes making small talk about Eddard’s recovery and Arya filled in more details of how Syrio and herself had saved him. She told her father more about the Druids and Rhaegar’s honor guard coming to their aid.  She also informed her father how Varys had come to their aid.

Eddard told his daughter that he had known that vaguely.  Varys had said as much but he was so sick and malnourished that he had not truly understood much of what the eunuch had told him.

She then excitedly told her father of the comet in the sky and all the prophecies people were putting on it.  She told him some of the various tales that had first intrigued and then filled her with humor.  She noticed her father sat up straighter when she told him the prophecies concerning Daenerys Targaryen.  He asked her and Merrel to repeat parts and was extremely interested in those prophecies concerning the Valyrians for some reason Arya thought.  Maybe it was because of Daenerys’ father and what he had done to her grandfather.

Eddard was quiet for a minute staring out the window.  He whispered to himself “I wonder.  I had hoped to save her life … I wonder if she still lives.”  He shook his head.  “Enough on prophecies and what will probably never be.”

“I am happy that you procured Varys’ aid Arya.  You and Syrio have been most crafty and astute.  I know I could have done no better and probably much worse.  I should have listened to Varys.  He and Littlefinger both betrayed me.  In their defense, that occurred only after I refused to listen to them.  Varys has earned a second chance.  He showed great courage coming to you in the dungeon telling you that Joffrey had sent forces to retrieve me and take me to him.  I would be dead now if that had occurred.”

“If Varys had not come to you, the battle would not have gone as well.  If you had been attacked in the dungeon itself with you trying to protect my invalid self … I hate to think on what would have happened.”

“We will win you the Iron Throne father.”

The Druid now came forward.  “I need to speak to you and Arya, Eddard Stark.”

The two Starks turned to face the man.

“Varys thought of me initially to save your leg.  I can indeed restore your leg.  It will be as before you had your horse fall on it.”

Eddard looked at the man.  “I have seen too many injuries on the battlefield Merrel.  I know the sad truth.  My leg is ruined.  I will never be able to walk on it.  In the future I will need a cane to merely walk across a room.  My fighting days are behind me.  I will have to rely on others to fight my battles now.  As much as that may gall me.”

“That you are mistaken in Eddard Stark.”

“Not even the Grand Maester of the Citadel itself could restore my leg.  I know this Merrel.”

“You know of science.  I am of magic.  I can restore your leg.  I will take your injury into myself.  I helped to tend to your body when you first arrived.  I know your body now.  I can feel the returning strength to your body.  I know your strength and the very structure of your body.  I have listened to your speech as you have talked to your caregivers and to your daughter.  I have heard the genuine gratitude in your words to Syrio Forel.  I hear the honor and respect in your speak when you converse with the honor guard of Rhaegar Targaryen.  You are able to see the good in your supposed foes.”

“I have learned you Eddard Stark.  I can now take your injury into myself.  It is a hard thing that I must do to restore your health.  I will have to injure myself in the same way as you were injured.  I will take the damage and the pain into myself.  Unfortunately, you will have to relive the pain as it passes from you to me.”

Arya saw her father look at the Druid.  The man had no reason to lie.  Maybe there was magic in the world after all.

“But I will require a price from you Eddard Stark.  You must meet his price. If it is not met I will not give my aid further.  Nor will my fellow brothers and sisters.  We will slip out of King’s Landing and leave you and Arya to your fate.”

Arya watched her father stare at the man.  “So you would offer me aid and then remove it.  That is not very honorable.”

“Neither is what House Stark has done to the land and to the Children of the Forest.”

“I don’t like what you are saying or how you are saying it Merrel!” Arya growled at the Druid standing up.  _No one attacked her father_! Arya thought hotly.  _He was the greatest father ever_!  Arya saw her father calmly looking at the Druid.

Eddard reached out and gripped his daughter’s elbow gently and pulled her back down to sit on the edge of his bed.  This calmed Arya and she now waited to hear more from the Druid.  “What do you mean Merrel?  I am listening.”

The Druid took a deep breath.  “We—and I include all of the men since the coming of the first men have committed genocide against the Children of the Forest and to the very life of the continent.  Wildlife had been slaughtered and butchered to near extinction.  That needs stop.  It must stop now.”

Arya saw her father giving the man his full attention.

“Yes.  It was man that denuded this land and killed its original inhabitants, the First People, the Children of the Forest.  But one house stood out in its slaughter of the innocents in the wood and glen.  It was your House that butchered the First people mercilessly across the continent.  Bran the Builder led the slaughterer of all who sought to maintain the old ways.”

“That is a fucking lie!” Arya’s father shouted starting to get up but crying out when his leg was jostled.  Arya was shocked.  Her father never cursed.  He had to be truly upset.

“I fear not Eddard Stark.  My fore parents were among those killed.  The slaughter of the First People and Druids was so great that First People created the Ice King and his initial brothers.  The Ice King is in fact a fallen Stark.  He was vile and psychotic.  Unfortunately, the Children of the Forest did not truly understand the human physic.  They felt that the weapon they had created would attack those who had attacked him and sought his death.  They thought his transformation would be greeted as a boon.”

“You cannot control such a weapon.  Of course, he turned on them.  The Ice King hates all of us equally.”

Arya saw her father was silent and had a troubled look on his face.  He looked pale again.  With a troubled look Eddard turned to look at Arya.  The two held eyes for a long moment before Eddard returned his shaky gaze to Merrel.

“You feel the truth in your heart Eddard Stark.  You know I speak true.  In your heart you lament the passing of the Direwolf, Lion, Cave Hyena and Saber Tooth Cat.  It is not too late.  We can restore the Weirwood trees and their grooves.  We can have peace and allow the Children of the Forest to thrive and repopulate.  They have given up on revenge.”

“They wish to live in peace.  Magic is coming back.  Now is the time.  We must strike this bargain now when all is possible.  You will strike it and another will seal it.  Will you do it?”

“The Druids have no concern with the Iron Throne or the matters of world politics.  We only wish to restore the balance with the Earth and magic.  You are the catalyst Eddard Stark.  It is you who will allow the Dragon and the Wolf to lie together.”

Arya watched her father sit up straighter and close his eyes.

“How do I know you will do what you say?”

“I could tell you have my word but you have been betrayed by those you thought you could trust.  You must search your heart Eddard Stark.  Let us form a partnership to save your throne and your kingdom and allow the Druids and the Children of the Forest to restore the land itself.  It can be done.”

Eddard Stark opened his eyes.  He looked at Arya Stark.  She nodded yes.  He turned his head to Merrel.

“Deal.  You have my word.  Do you trust _me_?”

“You and your daughter are the only two I do trust without question.  Another comes also worthy of such honor and trust.  Let us restore the continent.”


	13. Setting the Table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN #1: One reader has expressed interest in Jaqen H'ghar getting POV chapters. Others have expressed a liking for the character. Let me know if you wish to have the Faceless Man promoted to POV character. He is not currently.

Insurrection

Setting the Table

 

CLACK CLACK CLACK … CLACK CLACK … CLACK CLACK CLACK

The sounds of wooden swords hitting each other filled the large room that had been emptied so Syrio Forel could train with his prized pupil Arya Stark.  The two combatants were slashing and lunging forward with lightning speed.  The force of their swords colliding was strong and sure.

Arya Stark continued to improve at a fast and steady pace.  She was strong and fast.  She had what most fourteen years old did not have.  She had focus and she did not think she knew more than her master.  He had trained many male youths back in Braavos.  Masters always needed to bring up the next generation of Bravos weeding out the chaff to find the kernels that could be trained up.  The true kernels were so few and far between.

Some could learn the physical aspects of wielding the sword but not the building of the body and the mind.  All they could see was the glinting metal in their hand.  This disciple was so different than all before.  Arya wanted to learn it all and to constantly improve.  She did all his exercises and ad hoc games with determination and seeming enjoyment.  She listened to his lessons with rapt attention.  She saw beyond cold tempered steel.  Her sight was that of a true Water Dancer.  It was the dance _with_ the metal that truly mattered!

 _Yes indeed_ Syrio thought _I have finally found my disciple_. 

Syrio lunged forward and Arya blocked his rapier thrust.  She did not counteract!

“Arya!  You must always counteract.  Prosecute!  Strike again, again, again and again!  You must be tight as a drum, let your sword reverberate and strike fast and furious.”

Syrio lunged forward again his rapier lunging forward.  This time Arya leaned right and her sword came up knocking his sword up with a sharp blow.  This time she lunged forward with a sharp thrust.  Syrio down chopped.  Arya flicked her sword up blocking his and lunged forward hard her blade nearly finding his chest. He spun away to the left and pivoted low and came up.

His eyes went large when he saw Arya’s blunt wood sword tip nearly hit him in the temple.  He staggered off to the left.  He was slightly off balance.  For the first time Arya Stark had truly surprised him.  She had taken what he had taught her and morphed it to the moment.  Without thought she had come up with a unique move for the moment and attacked.

Inside elation crowed in Syrio’s chest.  He knew he had made the right choice but to see its first manifestations was intoxicating.  Yes indeed.  He had chosen wisely.  Her foundation was founded on Stark resolve and honor.  You could ask for much worse.

Her breathing was calm and her eyes focused.  Arya was learning.  Calm as still waters, quick as a snake!  Still, she needed her master.

She had more to learn.  Arya had so much more to learn.  “Arya!  Why did you stop?  You saw that I was unbalanced for a moment.  That was the moment to attack.  You must always seek advantage.”

“But you are my Master.  I-I-I …”

“Don’t worry about my ego Arya.  I am a Water Dancer.  I will only say this once.  I am not perfect as hard as that may be to believe.”

He smiled seeing Arya roll her eyes.

“Seriously Arya.  Always press an advantage.  Press on to victory or until the advantage is lost and a new attack must be initiated.  You must be like a rabid wolverine.  Relentless and ferocious.”

Arya bowed to her master. 

“Let’s practice our steps Arya.  Back Back Left Right Left Left Forward Back Forward Back Right Forward Forward …”

Twenty minutes Syrio felt that Arya had learned all she could for the day.  Arya’s ability to focus and hungrily learn was supreme.  She was indeed like the Wolverine he wanted her to fight like.

“Stand on one foot for fifteen minutes with arms extended and then the other foot.”  Arya immediately rose up on the ball of her left foot and extended her arms.  Her eyes closed in concentration.  Her body relaxed as she went to a place deep inside herself. 

Syrio smirked.  He had sensed that Arya had nearly asked him several times if he could do all the things he asked her to do.  She wondered if he made these up and whether he had been trained thus when he was her age.  _A little mystery was good for the soul_ Syrio thought smugly to himself. 

He prepared to leave.  “When you finish that I want you to catch Pepper five times.”  The tabby cat was lightning fast and quick to use his claws.  Arya always caught him without a scratch now.  _Usually_.

He was on the fourth floor of the building that the Druids owned as their secret headquarters in the capital of Westeros.  It was Merrel who normally manned this bastion of Druid thought and heart.  It was mostly abandon.  The third floor was the storage floor and the Druids did their training and rituals there.  Syrio had been invited to join them but he had bowed out from that.  He had never been comfortable with religion.  They had setup a large room for him to train his disciple in.  The Druids also saw much promise in Arya Stark.  They seemed to see the girl as the protector of this supposed reborn Dragon in the East.  He sometimes picked up something more was expected by the Druids but he was not exactly sure what that could be.  He could see the girl becoming the Queen’s First Sword.  He liked the symmetry of that.

The house had filled with more Druids.  Twenty-two more had arrived.  The new men and women had come from the southern mountain ranges of the Vale and the Forests of the Rainwood Forest in their hidden communities on the South face of the Blackridge Mountains.  The Holds of Crow’s Nest, Mistwood and Stonehelm did not even know of the Druids existence.  The twisting deep vales perfect to have small communities hidden from view.  Living as one with nature made for communities that simply blended into the local woodlands and high vales.

He saw Nysah Coldrin looking at him with that direct gaze that he found unsettling.  Her dark brown hair and eyes were intoxicating.  Her fair skin so smooth and silky.  Syrio shook his head.  Women had always been trouble for him.  They always played with his heart and then ran off to others.  He supposed they sensed his first devotion had always been his sword. 

He wondered now if that bargain had been worth it.  Having everything go to shit made him wonder sometimes.

He went to the communal area on the first floor.  He saw Saelalys Narennis ladling out the stew for the noon time meal that was being served.  She smiled seeing him.  “When are you going to start talking to Nysah?  She is growing impatient.  She may do a Wildling Hunt on your ass Syrio if you are not careful!” she said with a chuckle.

 _What the hell does that supposed to mean_?  Syrio wondered.  Who were Wildlings?  Sounded savage.  He was not sure he wanted any part of this _hunt_.

He saw Merrel at a table on the back wall.  He was oiling his Weirwood long bow.  It was a work of art.  The blinding white wood was a marvel to the sight.  The wood seemed to gleam wetly with fresh clear sap. The middle part of the bow was carved into a complex pattern of intertwined tree limbs with the limbs gradually blending into the ends of the bow.  Garlands of boughs with leaves seeming to sprout from the wood itself.

Syrio went to the Druid and sat down at his table.  “Your bow is a beautiful piece of art Merrel.  How old is that bow?  It literally glows when you oil it.”

“This bow is over two thousand years old.  It is handed down from one Master to the next.  My grandfather used this bow.  I was honored to be gifted it when I rose to the level of Master.  We are not given a Long Bow till we have reached our full maturity and mastery.”

Syrio processed this.  He was surrounded by the best of this peoples warriors.  He was honored to fight beside them.

Without preamble Merrel addressed Syrio, “Nysah Coldrin grows impatient.  She is besotted with you for some reason.  She keeps going on about the ‘Water Dancer’.  I think you two are most compatible.”

Syrio flushed hotly.  He did not need to hear this.  _Women confused him_!

He decided to change the subject.  “So you feel that this Daenerys Targaryen is the fulfillment of the red comet over our heads.”

The Druid set his longbow against the wall and turned to give Syrio his full attention.  “I do. I know why others will doubt her.  From all reports she is only a slip of a girl. She is nothing like your Arya Stark.  She is gentle and genteel.  She does not have the fiery spirit of the warrior in her.  She will acquire power though guile and gumption.”

“Of course she has to survive.  We have just received a raven from across the world.  She has fled into the Red Wastes.  We do not know if she will survive.  She has gone into the crucible of her destiny.  If she survives, and I know she will, she will come out the Red Wastes a force to be reckon with.”

“What will happen then?”

“It is humorous my answer” Merrel smiled softly a Syrio.  “We do not know.  Quite frankly, Eddard Stark was supposed to do die and Arya was to flee into the wilds of Westeros and eventually wind up at the House of Black and White and become an avatar of death.  Those were the prophecies that we thought were ascendant.  Of course the words involved a lot of animals, hallucinogenic mumbo jumbo and phrases that could mean anything.  But it was seemed that Eddard must die.  Only two prophecies had the ‘grizzled wolf’ surviving.”

“This is good.  Otherwise the Dragon would eventually lose her way and fall into despair and folly.  Now she has a chance to survive.  She has many curses working against her.  Only the love of someone who can be completely true will save her.”

Syrio harrumphed.  “Like such a man exists.”

“Yes” Merrel replied.  “Like such a man could exist.  Maybe we should look elsewhere.”

 _What the hell did that mean_ Syrio wondered?  What was it with these vaguely worded prophecies?

//////////

Eddard was trying hard to not complain like a child at the two women who were caring for him.  They were doing an excellent job he knew. He was just having a hard time adjusting to being an invalid and needing to be cared for.  He was used to being the person that everyone else came to find support.

He squint smiled at Phirona Ormonnis and Saelalys Narennis as they tended to his needs.  He squirmed when they adjusted his pillows and straightened out his blankets.  They were both beautiful he had to admit.  It was obvious they were lovers and wore matching rings.  He knew of several gay couples in Winterfell. He did not care what people did behind closed doors.

He knew of homosexuals but had never really focused on them.  Seeing these two women up close was kind of eye opening for the Warden in the North.  Conceptually, he knew there was no difference between heterosexuality and homosexuality but seeing it every day really brought that into focus.  There was no difference. 

He wondered what he would do if any of his children were gay.  He would deal with it he supposed.  He grimaced.  Dealing with his wife, Catelyn Tully, would be another matter.  That would be a battle royal.

Merrel came in and the two women bowed to Eddard.  “We will serve you faithfully when you ascend the Iron Throne Eddard Stark.  We would hope you will remember us.”

Eddard bowed his head.  He looked at Merrel with a question in his eyes.

“They hope you will show equal justice for all your subjects.  No matter their proclivities.  The matter may strike closer to home than you might think.”

 _What the hell did that mean_ Eddard wondered?  For a moment Arya came to his thoughts but shook his head.  Why would he think of his youngest daughter now?  The daughter who had saved him.  He focused on what Merrel had asked him.  “I will treat all my subjects with equal justice … but … we are putting the cart before the horse.  I still have to gain the throne.”  He moved his crippled leg.  Or should he say he tried to move his crippled leg.  “I am still a cripple.”

Eddard saw the man smile.  “Oh yea of little faith … be prepared. The time is soon coming Eddard Stark.

Eddard looked at the man and gave him a soft smile.  He would believe it when he saw and more importantly, felt it.  His leg was always aching and stiff.  He felt like Doran Martell in Dorne.  He wondered how Willas Tyrell seemed to accept becoming a cripple with such equanimity. 

Eddard had to admit it.  A large part of his problem was ego.  He had been one of the best swordsman in Westeros.  With Barristan Selmy gone he really wondered if anyone else was even close to his equal on the battlefield.  Damn!  To be brought down by a fucking horse falling on him.  He ground his teeth like Stannis Baratheon. 

That stopped him.  He would not become that stick up his ass man.

“What I really need are some ravens.  I need to counteract the missives of Cersei Lannister.  I know she has sent ravens to Caterly Rock.  Her father must surely be well on the way to King’s Landing.  He would have sent out a quick strike force before him to give the quickest succor.  Distance to Casterly Rock has given us time.  The forces of Jamie Lannister and Gregor Clegane I am sure are creating chaos but when Tywin arrives with more forces from the West it will make any future conflicts more deadly and increase the loss of life.”

“I need to get Catelyn’s father Hoster Tully to mobilize and attack the forces of the Lannisters.  He is fading but I am sure he will go to his son Edmure.  He will be anxious to call up arms.  I will get them to attack the flanks of the advancing Lannister forces.  He will harass their forces and force them to slow and pull back to meet that threat.  While that is happening I need to send ravens to the Vale.  I would send them to Lyssa Tully but also the major lords of the Vale.  I do not trust her at all.  I have learned to follow my inner doubts.”

“I just need ravens!” 

Merrel chuckled out loud.

“Does my distress given you humor Merrel?” Eddard asked in a harsh bark.  _He did not like being mocked_!

The man held up his hand.  “I would never mock you Eddard Stark.”

Eddard calmed.  Was he that easy to read?

“I laugh because you are in the care of Druids.  Ravens are our brothers.  We don’t need to train our ravens were to go.  We can talk to our brothers directly.  They have an instinctive map of all of Westeros and Essos bred into them.  They are not limited to only a few locations they can travel too.  We can get messages to wherever you need them.”

Eddard perked up.  This was unexpected news.  He felt a surge of energy and hope burn through his body.  Then doubt entered his mind.

“How is this possible Merrel?  We need to spend years training ravens to fly to specific locations and back.”  Eddard felt his hope start to fade.

“Eddard Stark.  Being in tune with nature has its advantages.  We do not warg with our ravens as your people can with the animals of the North especially the Direwolf.  But Ravens are very intelligent animals.  Through countless years of close association and love we have formed an intimate bond with our ravens.  Generations of humans and ravens have formed a strong bond that allows us to ask almost anything of our ravens and they understand us.”

“Our ravens want what is the best for the land as we do.  They will aid us.  Write your messages Warden of the North.  They will be delivered post haste.  I will bring in a map of Westeros.  Show me where they need to go and I will make sure they arrive at their destinations in all possible haste.”

“I know of these Lions of Lannister.  Their leader is despotic in his actions if not in his intentions.  His two eldest are selfish and besotted with each other.  It blinds them to what they could be.  That will soon change.  We Druids despise war but we have learned our lessons well Eddard Stark.  Pacifism is for losers.  We will fight for the world this time.”

“Why do you seek to help me if my family is so soiled and dishonored?” Eddard had to ask perplexed.  “From what you tell me my family is largely responsible for genocide and the very creation of the Ice Wrights.”

“Do you doubt it Eddard?”

“No.  I can feel it in my heart that the words are true though I am befuddled as to how this could have happened.  The legends … the legends make us to be heroes of the land.  Of Westeros.  This is hard to take.”

“Eddard Stark.” Eddard came out of his musings at the harsh tone.  He looked at Merrel.  He saw no anger or rancor.  “If you had been alive then; none of this would be now.  That is the past.  This is the now.  We can only make amends and seek a new path.  Will you do that?”

Eddard squared his shoulders.  “I am not what I was but I will give my all.  The Lannisters cannot be allowed to stay on the Iron Throne.  That is imperative.  If I succeed in disposing them I will not turn aside from the Iron Throne again.  I have seen the result.  Will I be any better than the others?  I do not know but I doubt I can be any worse.”

The Druid smiled at him.  “You and your daughter are the answer to many prayers Eddard Stark.  Write our letters.”

The Druid left him.  Eddard stared at the door.  The dye was cast.  It was time to take a throne.  He took a deep breath at that thought.  He had to strike hard and fast.  He had cast his lot.

//////////

Merrel was putting his items together.  The need to leave King’s Landing to heal Eddard Stark was imperative.  To restore the man he would need to be in his center of power.  The wound had occurred to long ago for any other option.  The center of his power would be in his home hamlet in the depths of the Kingswood.  Merrel would need his full strength to restore Eddard’s leg and his full strength.

He had returned to Eddard an hour later.  The man was stumped.  He did not have his personal house seal.  It had of course been stripped from him by the Lannisters.  He was afraid that Holster and Edmure would think his message was fake without signet seal. 

Merrel suggested to Eddard that he come up with something he had shared only with the men.  Hopefully, that would be enough.  The man’s eyes had light up at that.  He remembered how Edmure had begged Eddard to be allowed to come to help free Aunt Lyanna from her ‘vile plight’.  He had been much too young at the time.  Eddard wrote of some of the wild boasts that Edmure had made in trying to convince Eddard of his prowess with a sword.  With Holster he wrote of the doubts he had expressed to the man the day he came to marry Catelyn.  He again barred his soul to the man.  How he did not measure up to his brother Brandon.  Hopefully, that would be enough.

The Warden of the North did not have the intimate contact with the Lords of the Vale.  They would have to believe in his words.  Merrel watch Eddard write these missives to the Vale.  The man did have a beautiful distinctive script writing and his words were stirring.  Only time would tell.  The man was highly thought of by the Druids.  Their whole order had been highly upset when he did not take the Iron Throne a generation ago. 

So much lost time.  Robert Baratheon’s dissipation had unfortunately also caused Westeros to fade and dissipate as well.

The main prophecies had predicted a devastating war among the houses and then with the Ice Wright King.  Hopefully, all that could be averted now. 

The ravens even now were winging west and north to deliver Eddard’s pleas for loyalty and fealty.  Merrel could not control their response.  He could only do what he could to help Eddard Stark take the Iron Throne.  He knew the man would honor his pledges to him and his fellow Druids.  It could only be a start.  The man and the Dragon Queen would have to institute systemic changes that would take generations to become the lay of the land.  It would be hard but the process had to begin sometime and there was no reason to not begin now.

The sun was setting.  He would be leaving soon.  Varys knew of the tunnels of the Red Keep intimately.  The eunuch knew of the tunnels that branched out of the Keep to various buildings in King’s Landing near the Red Keep.  The man did not know of the tunnels that the Druids knew of.  The man was only interested in the Game of Thrones aspect of power and pulling of levers of power.  Varys focused on the political only.

Thus, the man did not know of the tunnels that riddled King’s Landing that catered to the true common man.  What did the common man use tunnels for?  Economics.  All major cities that were walled used that wall to control the inflow and outflow of goods.  It was used to control the coming of persons in and out of the cities.  This was to control the populace but also to help identify and tax the new immigrants trying to get the City’s pound of flesh as the saying went.  The governments always wanted to tax heavily the new immigrants.  They had no power to resist.  They had to pay up to enter the cities.  There was no other recourse for them.

That was where the tunnels came in.  With these tunnels commerce was brought into the cities and sold on the black market.  New immigrants entered the cities without notice and without being taxed and put on the government’s lists.  These tunnels allowed the everyday man to survive government regulation and taxation.

The Druids had always identified with the common man.  The rich and power were interested only in themselves really.  You had the rarity of an Eddard Stark (and thus the need to strike now) but most rulers sadly were much more like Daenerys Targaryen’s father or Robert Baratheon.

The Druids thus knew of all these smuggling tunnels.  He left his home and slowly walked down the street in the increasing gloom of dusk.  He was dressed not in his Druid robes but in the everyday dress of a merchant of King’s Landing.  He was just another common man.  Unnoticed and uncared for.  Like a chameleon Merrel simply blended into the background of Flee Bottom. 

Merrel walked down the busy streets.  Merchants were going home that worked at producing goods.  But the streets were also filled with people going to places to eat and taverns to seek some alcohol and maybe a brothel to get the pleasures of the flesh.  He slowly winded his way towards the Dragon Gate on the North wall of King’s Landing.  Most of the guarding forces were concentrated on the King’s Road and Gold’s Road gates and also along the water.  The traditional invasion routes into King’s Landing.

He walked up the streets and enjoyed the bustle of life and vitality that the common man always brought to any environ.

He was nearing the Old Gate. He could see the curtain wall clearly now over most of the buildings.  He took a right down a small street.  He walked down for a hundred yards and then took a left down a large alley for fifty yards and then took a narrower alley to his right.  He was now in a warren of ever narrowing alleys.  He came to the rear of a butcher’s shop.  He pulled out a key and put it in the locked door.  He inserted the key and entered the rear of the establishment.  He went behind the line of hogs hanging by their hind hooves and being bleed out for tomorrow’s preparation.

He moved paste the corpses of the swine and pushed out a set of crates that would seem to be heavy. They were empty and made of balsa wood.  He pulled open the door that led into the tunnel that went to the small hamlet outside of the Old Gate that had grown to half a mile square now.  The buildings spawning more buildings like young fish fry.  The hamlets ever growing.  These people were happy to live outside the walls.  Until an army invaded and then they would flee into the City proper. 

Merrel entered into the tunnel and gripped the ropes that were attached to the false crates and slowly pulled them back against the wall.  He then crawled down the small access tunnel.  The small tunnel emptied into the main smuggler’s tunnel.  He could now walk fully upright.  To hide in plain sight, Merrel had wrapped his package in paper that made it look a large slab of beef.  His longbow and quiver at his side.  He came to the backpack he had put in the tunnel this afternoon.  It was in a hidden alcove up above normal eyesight.

He passed several smugglers brining in red leaf.  He greeted them warmly.  Smugglers were a brotherhood.

He walked on.  He was good with distances.  He was now under the City’s curtain wall.  He kept on walking soon.  He came to a side tunnel.  This one he took.  Soon he was at another small tunnel that angled up.  He took that tunnel and came to a door.  He took a key out and put it in the lock.  He entered into the back of large flower stall.  Women were busy restocking supplies for tomorrow.  They saw his entry but were not worried.  They smiled genially but in general ignored him.  They had a business to run.  Merrel walked through the business.

He went outside past the flower stalls.  There Merrel saw the horse that had been tethered there.  He unleased it from the hitching post and mounted the horse.  With his knees he nudged the horse into motion.  The horse started down the road leading away from King’s Landing.

He would first go to Rosby and then take the Fisherman’s Road to the coast.  From there he would take a fishing vessel across Blackwater Bay.  He would sail across the bay and land on the South shore of the bay.  Within half a day he would be back home in the Kingswood. 

Soon he would be home.  Then he would be able to heal Eddard Stark.  It was then the true changes would begin.


	14. Promises Kept

Insurrection

Promises Kept

 

Syrio politely knocked on the door.  He waited and heard the grunted “come in”.  Syrio opened the door and entered the room.  He saw Eddard Stark hobbling by the dresser on the back wall.  He had a walking cane in his right hand jammed into the floor.  He turned to look at Syrio grimacing.  He was finishing putting on his blouse shirt.  He had his pants on with the leg split up to the hip on his right leg.

He grunted as he grumbled hobbling back to the chair by the table the Warden of the North was using as his staging area on his campaign against the forces of the Lannisters.

The Warden of the North had received his first responses back from Riverrun and Houses of the Vale.  The man had been reading them since they had started to come back from the Vale Lord Holds.  Like a bear with a maimed paw, Eddard slowly and painfully scooted across the floor to the chair.  Syrio went to help the man but he was waved off.  Syrio could understand the man’s thinking.  For a warrior to have his body betray him was hard.  It did not matter that his body was harmed by a horse that fell on it.  Eddard felt betrayed.

Eddard’s body tottered like a spinning top running out of momentum.  Eddard made the chair and pivoted around and plopped down unceremoniously.  Syrio watched the man pull the slit open on his right leg.  The sight that greeted Syrio made him grimace.  The knee area was a mass of still mottled flesh that was swollen.  Syrio could see massive calcium deposits around the lower bones near the knee.  The joint was permanently ruined.

If Merrel did not come through with his _magical_ healing of the injury, Eddard Stark was a cripple for life.  It was shame the fallen Water Dancer thought.  Syrio was not sure he could continue living with such an injury.  An injury not even delivered from a blade, spear or arrow.  Eddard was a legend with his sword.  He was the equivalent of a First Sword; just Westerosi style.  Syrio could see himself going out to a wooden glade with the sun beaming down on him and falling on his rapier piercing his heart.  He could not go on from such an injury.

Sava Cartwell a druid from the Vale was a healer of traditional medicine.  She had given Eddard an ointment to put on his leg to ease the pain and promote some flexibility in the knee joint.  Eddard grabbed the small ointment container and removed the top and put some of the medicinal concoction on his knee.  The man’s face showed that the ointment had some pain relieving properties as well.

Eddard sighed and looked at the scrolls that had been on the ravens that had returned from the Riverlands and the Vale.

“Can I ask what the responses have been?  I will understand if you do not.  I am only your daughter’s sword instructor” Syrio asked the Warden of the North.

Syrio watched the man put down the scroll he had picked up and looked up at Syrio.  “You have every right to ask me anything Syrio Forel.  You saved me.  You saved my daughter.  You may have saved the realm.  I think you have earned the right to ask me anything.”  Eddard gave Syrio a squint smile. 

Syrio could not help but be attracted to the man.  He had that certain something that was charisma.  People wanted to follow this man.  Syrio tilted his head in acknowledgement.

“I have received responses back both from the Riverlands and the Vale.  I was sure and have been proven right that Riverrun will answer my call to raising their banners.  Holster and more probably Edmure are already organizing forces to threaten Hornvale and Golden Tooth.  I advise to not attack but merely to threaten and harry.  Force the castles to close their gates and send ravens to Casterly Rock.  They are sending ravens to Stoney Sept and the holdfasts around Harrenhal to marshal forces and attack the Gold Road where it loops into House Tully lands.  Again I am advising to harry and harass only.  My main goal is to make Tywin Lannister slow his movements toward the Red Keep.  Dundarion is leading the forces from King’s Landing against the Lannisters marauding in the Crownlands.”

We cannot fight the Westerlands without a great loss of life.  I have a better idea.  I just need time to implement them.

“The responses from the Vale are more problematic.  I sent a raven to the Eyrie, to Lyssa, the sister to my wife Catelyn Tully.  Her answer was as I expected unfortunately.  _Damnit_!  She will not commit any forces to my cause.  She says she must make sure the vale is safe. That Jon Arryn’s heir is held safe.”

Syrio watched the man sigh.  He looked out the window that was open letting in the warm breeze.

“I expected that from Lyssa.  I am not sure what her game is.  She seemed evasive.  It was almost as if she was waiting guidance.  I only wish I knew from whom.  She clearly awaits directives.  I will not rely on her.  Fortunately, I have other resources.”

“The Druids seeming unlimited supply of ravens that can go to any location desired in Westeros is a god’s blessing.  I sent ravens to every house in the Vale stating my need.  I also told them that the children of Cersei Lannister are not Robert Baratheon’s and, thus, are the issue of incest.  This cannot stand.”

“The Targaryens married sister to brother.  Why is this differnent?  Seems hypocritical from an Essos point of view.”

The man looked up at him regarding him.

“Actually, I agree in the philosophical sense.  Still Robert Baratheon did not produce any true heirs.  I could give a rat’s ass really about Cersei’s children being by Jamie her brother.  It was protecting them that got me in his situation.  I will protect them still.  Now, I will bring down Cersei Lannister and capture Jamie Lannister and bring him to justice for that and for throwing my son Bran down from the broken tower in Winterfell.”

Syrio watched a feral look come across Eddard’s face.  “I will have justice!” the man barked out.  Syrio’s head jerked back and his eyes widened.  This was the first time he had seen such an outburst from the man.

“And the children?  Joffrey is a shit but the two youngest are innocents in the Game of Thrones.  They will be put to the sword?”

“You do not know me Syrio.  You will see.”  Eddard’s tone told Syrio that this avenue was closed to further conversation.

“Fortunately, some of the Houses of the Vale have answered my call to banners.  They are not sending much but it is what I need.  The houses Waynwood, Redfort, Belmore and of course Nestor Royce recently relieved of his duties by Lyssa is joining the cause.  The lesser Houses of Corbray and Pryor have also aligned with me.  The others will heed Lyssa’s call to stay neutral for now.”

“They are sending two thousand archers and three thousand light horse.”

“Don’t you need knights to fight an army?” Syrio asked knowing the Westerosi penchant for them.

“House Lannister is too powerful to be taken on with the forces they can muster without Lyssa’s support.  I need for them to harass and get the attention of Tywin Lannister.  I need to have Tywin diverge his forces that are heading to King’s Landing.  He has a long line of communication and wagon trains very vulnerable to attack.  When they are heavily threatened he will need to meet that threat.”

“By threatening Hornvale and Golden Tooth they will send ravens for succor from Lannisport.  Tywin will have to heed their call for aid.  This will delay him and reduce the forces he can bring to King’s Landing.”

“He will have to consider the forces potentially arrayed against and where the next attack will come from.  While this is happening Robb, my son, is calling banners in the North and marshalling the hosts for war.  I have advised him to fully organize and train up his forces for a month before he does anything if he does not hear from me more.  He is untried in war.  I will send more ravens when I get a better feel for the forces I can bring to bare on the battlefield.”

“What of the other houses?” Syrio asked.

“I have not sent word to them yet.  I need my signet ring.  I had not realized just how valuable it is.”

“Get it.”

“How am I supposed to do that with a hornets nest for of Red and Gold Cloaks in the Red Keep?  I can’t exactly go up to the gates and ask for it.”

Syrio snickered at the man’s aspirated attitude.  “You have Varys.  Let him go find it.  I bet no one is even thinking about it.”

Syrio saw Eddard’s mouth hanging open.  He shook his head.  “I am still out of my depths when it comes to the Game of Thrones I see.  He is supposed to visit tonight.  I will ask him.  Again I am in your debt.”

Now was the time Syrio thought?

“I know how you can repay me your supposed debt” Syrio told Eddard.

The smile left Eddard’s face and he looked at Syrio with a taciturn visage.  “ _Anndddddd_?”  His tone now wary.

“I wish to ask that Arya Stark become my student in full.  I have chosen her to be my disciple.  I have waited over ten years for her to come to me.  You did that service for me when you took me into your service.”

Eddard looked perplexed.  “I asked you to train my daughter to make her happy.  Isn’t this taken it a little far?” Eddard asked Syrio. He did not appear angry or have a flippant attitude.  He was merely unsure why a fallen Water Dance would be asking him such a question.  “Don’t you want some strong strapping male student?”

Syrio shook his head.  “I expected better from your Eddard Stark.  The sex of a person matters not in the Water Dance.  Only the skill.  Only the dedication.  Only the desire to learn.  I had not found all three of these qualities in any of students I took on in Braavos.”

Eddard looked at him.  “That was until I asked you to train my daughter.  That is what you are saying isn’t it.”

“Yes, Eddard Stark, Warden of the North.  You have gifted me with what I have so longed for.  A student who is worthy of that I have to teach them.  A student who truly wants to learn for the sheer sake of learning.  A student who will do all that I ask.  A student who will train tirelessly and relentlessly.  A student who has the fire in their belly to be great.  A student who is fearless in battle.”

“I wish you could have seen your daughter Eddard as we fought to save you.  She was truly the Direwolf of your standard.  She was absolutely ruthless in battle and did not hesitate to fight her foes.  In fact I had to hold her back.  She is truly your daughter.”

“You would take on a teenage girl then.  This is not done in Westeros.”

“I am from Essos.  We are more enlightened.  I am not dissuaded by one’s sex.  I see the ability.”

Syrio waited for Eddard Stark.  The man sat looking at him for a minute.  He then looked out the window for a minute watching the drapes waft in the breeze.

“It is funny how things work Syrio.  I hired you simply to make my daughter happy and to get some peace from her wild wolf nature.  She reminds me so much of my sister Lyanna Stark.  She too chaffed under the restrictions placed on her by my father.” 

The man stopped talking.  A faraway look filled his face.  Syrio knew Eddard’s thoughts were in the past a generation back.  A sad look came over Eddard’s visage.  He took a deep breath.

“It is said that a son should learn from his father and try to become more than him.”  Eddard looked up at Syrio with his steel grey eyes regarding him.  Studying him and testing his mettle.  “I would like to think I have learned from the past.”

Eddard painfully stood up and looked Syrio in the eyes.  He stuck out his hand and Syrio took it smiling.

“Train her well Syrio.  Let Arya Stark become what my dear sister Lyanna was not allowed to be.  Let the wolf howl and run free.  I give you my daughter to teach.  Let her become a Water Dancer.  You have my blessing.

//////////

Merrel stepped off the fishing skiff he had hired to take him across Blackwater Bay.  He had taken four days to ride to Rosby and a day to ride to the coast and find a ship.  He had taken a route that was not traveled but by merchants and the locals.  He wanted to avoid any possible troop movements.  He had his bow and quiver hidden in rolled blankets he knew experienced soldiers might guess what the long shape wrapped in blankets might be.

It had taken a day to sail across the bay.  It was now the seventh day and he had landed at Backhorn a small fishing village.  He purchased a filly and tact and was soon on the road, Woodcroft Lane that would take him to the Kingswood that was a hazy mirage on the horizon.  He took a steady gait.  He was in no hurry.  Once they entered the forest the lane would be bumpy and full of ruts and tree roots jutting up. This lane was for locals and not for commerce. 

To go any faster would put the horse in danger.  In two hours they entered the edge of the forest.  Here the forest was old growth with thick trunks and plenty of undergrowth.  Large brambles and between the large trees were a plethora of small trees that thrived in shadow and had canopies that topped out at between ten and twenty feet to not compete with the towering behemoths of deciduous trees with their broad limbs jutting out massive trunks.

Lichen, moss and ferns covered the ground, fallen trees and up along the first two or three feet of the massive tree trunks.  The air smelled of mold and ancient detritus moldering.  It was a rich smell of death and decay that gave rise to new life. 

The horse plodded on.  The trail going ever deeper into the forest.  The dappled light falling like comets to the ground in bright tails of light that could dazzle riding out of glooming shadow.

It was roughly twenty miles to the King’s Road that ran all the way to Storm’s End.  The road narrow but well maintained though official traffic was limited.  Still it was a major route used by armies when moving on the coastlands of the Crown and Storm Lands of the House of Baratheon.  Commerce did travel the road from King’s Landing to Storm’s end.  Still the road was little used compared to above King’s Landing.

One hour past noon he came upon a clearing caused by a falling tree knocking down another in its path of destruction down to the ground.  The cataclysm long ago. The branches long ago rotted away and only the massive trunks remaining.  The old rotting wood covered in a thick green carpet of moss and ferns with little white flowers blooming.  The canopy overhead still partially open to the sky as a new tree had risen up to fifty feet and greedy tree boughs creeped in from the side.

Here Merrel stopped and sat on the smaller tree trunk and ate hard tack and beef jerky.  He had purchased two saddle bags stuffed them full of oats.  Merrel feed the horse half of one bag and the horse supplemented it by cropping some grass able to grow in the partial sunlight.  He drank from his canteen and the horse from a small rill. 

They proceeded on.  Merrel would cross the King’s Road near midnight.  He wanted to cross the one major thoroughfare through the Kingswood when no one would be traveling.  Wovles, bears, wolverines, badgers, pumas and a few cave lions still roamed these woods.  Other fell beasts prowled the depths of the woods. Fearsome beast that had still learned to fear man and avoid him.  Their safety relying on stealth and avoidance of man to remain unknown and legends of past times.

He slowly walked on.  The druids were at peace with the woods.  The animals knew they were protected by the Druids and let them be and even watched over them when the druids passed through their territories.

A little after dusk Merrel took another break to let his horse rest and eat more oats and drink from a small stream.  He ate his travel fare.  They were making good progress.

At midnight they crossed the King’s Road and traveled a mile further down the animal paths that only the wildlife and the Druids knew of.  In a thinning of the trees from a forest fire several generations past Merrel came upon a small lodge built by the Druids hidden in a thick bramble thicket.  Merrel hobbled his horse and went inside to the simple bed frame and the lichen and piled hay that lay on it.  The Druids keeping the lodge stocked with food and clean bedding.

The next morning, Merrel refreshed moved on.  He slowly took hidden paths and animal tracks that angled South by East heading at an angle to the headwaters of the Wendwater River.  He crossed several large streams that fed that river over the next two days.  The land slowly starting to undulate as low sharp rolling hills, gullies, small valleys and razorback ridges now sprung up from the Earth. 

Merrel took paths that only the Druids and the few hardy woods folk that lived on this land knew of.  Like the Druids they lived in peace with the land not harming it and only taking what they needed to live well.  They did not follow the Druids religion but lived in peace with their neighbors.  None had any use for the Crown and its politics.

Merrel moved on.  The paths skirting the most arduous of the barriers that led into a wild land.  In the distance Merrel heard the roar of lions, jaguars and saber tooth cats that still thrived hidden deep in the woods.  He heard the barking laugh of cave hyenas and rough grunts of bears and cave bears.  He moved on.  His lack of fear calming his horse.

On the fifth day they entered the home territory of his coven of Druids.  He was now in his seat of power.  He could perform his magic now.  He merely needed to find the proper ground.  He had eaten continuously and slept peacefully in the hidden Druid lodges.  The lodges filled with hay and oats for the horses that the Druids rode through the forest and tended their small garden patches.  He traveled up slowly the face of a seven hundred foot high escarpment along switchbacks that slowly carried them higher and higher.  The trees clinging to the rocky ground hiding his ascent. The path hidden underneath the trees was wide enough for safe passage.

He finally came out to a large clearing in a hidden plateau hidden between three high riding ridge lines.  The plateau was tree rimmed but as he moved his horse in the plateau the center of it was over two hundred feet across and was filled with rocky shelfs but also several grassy pastures.  His horse would have fodder.  He fed it the rest of his oats from one of his satchel bags.  The horse happily munched on the proffered food.  Merrel hobbled the horse as it grew sleepy having eaten its fill of the last of the oats.

The headwaters of the Wendwater was now only fifteen miles distant.  Merrel looked around on his homeland. The land was still like it was before the coming of the first men.  It was rich and luxuriant and full of life.  Eddard Stark and Daenerys Targaryen would make sure it continued and begin the restoration.  The forest would grow back to its original dimensions.  It would take centuries.  The land would over time be healed.  The Children of the Forest would come back and restore the balance with the restoration of the Weirwoods.

Each great endeavor must begin with the first step.

No matter how painful.

The Druid sat down on cross legged on a rock shelf and turned inside himself.  He calmed his breathing and called to mind his memories of Eddard Stark.  He had learned his body helping the caregivers when he had first arrived.  He knew when the man had been brought to him this moment would come.

Most of the prophecies had said that the lions would decimate the wolves till the dragon queen came and only then would the remaining wolves again rise up in ascendency.  Eddard Stark had been prophesized to die.  Only two prophecies had said that another path would be followed.  Two prophecies verses a multitude of others foretelling that said the man would die.

He had been shocked when the man’s daughter appeared on his doorstep stating that they would save her father and that he would heal her.  He had been so shocked to see the wolf cub before him. The wolf cub who would tame the dragon.

It had taken time to save Eddard from the dudgeons.  That passed time now forced the Druid to seek the locus of his power to heal the man.  If he could have prepared himself when the injury occurred he could have healed Eddard from King’s Landing.  Too much time had passed.

No matter.  He was in the center of his power now.

For the rest of the day and through the night the Druid centered himself.  The cold of the night did not affect him.  He was at peace with himself and with the world.

The sun was now rising up to the noon hour of the next day.  The time had come in the day when Eddard Stark had been injured.  He roused himself.  He was ready.

His horse was cropping grass.  He pulled off his cloak and stood naked.  He wasted no time.  He opened the satchel bag and dumped out the full load of oats out of the satchel.  He gripped the horse’s head and looked into its eyes and spoke to the horse telling him to remain calm and not run away.

The horse flicked its ears and shook his head.  The Druid smiled.  He hoped the horse would not bolt.  Horses could be easily spooked. 

He wasted no time.  He had not put the saddle back on the horse.  He pulled himself up on the horse.  He walked it over to rocky shelf.  He gripped the horse’s main and twisted its head and used his mind to make its right leg collapse.  The horse toppled down on the Druid shattering his right leg.

Merrel’s screams filled the air.  Then he passed out.

//////////

Eddard looked out the window in his room.  In some ways Eddard felt like this room was his prison.  He felt like an invalid with his shattered leg.  His leg was paining him less each day. That was not to say it was not still throbbing with still regular stabs of almost excoriating pain.  He could feel his leg locking up as the bones fused in their unnatural positons.  He grimaced knowing he would be a cripple who could not move without the need of a cane.

He would never be able to fight his battles again.  He would forever more need to rely on others to fight the physical battles.  It galled his ego and worried his soul.  To be brought low by a falling horse made Eddard want to growl in anger.  To be laid low and not even by a foe. 

Eddard shook his head.  It was one way to learn a lesson in humility.

The Warden of the North saw movement down on the lane below.  He smiled.  He saw his daughter running first in circles and then juking right and left and then tearing off to the left down the lane.  She was chasing a Bengal cat that was hissing and leaping around avoiding Arya.  She lunged forward but the cat twisted its back and bolted to the right and down an alley between two buildings.  Arya tumbled on the ground and righted herself like the cat she was chasing and was off pursuing the cat down the alleyway. 

He smiled.  His daughter loved all her Water Dancer lessons with Syrio and gave each task her all.

He looked up as two ravens came flying up to the roof.  More messages coming back to the headquarters as Eddard now thought of Merrel’s home.  He was in some ways in heaven.  Having a large flock of ravens at his beck and call (he stopped and grimaced at the inadvertent pun).  The ability to communicate anywhere within Westeros as fast and often as he needed was almost intoxicating.  He was not sure since he did not drink.  He smirked.  He was in wry humor today.

The news had been good.  Edmure had already formed up small parties that were riding east and beginning to find the Lannister wagon trains and harassing them.  The Houses near the Crownlands had located the leading forces of House Lannister and ambushed them twice with heavy losses to the Lannisters.

He had sent word to Berric Dondarrion by raven too.  Having ravens that could fly to a person and not a point was again astounding.  He had told the man to stop attacking directly and move to hit and run attacks.  The idea to unsettle his enemies and save his forces.  He had reinforcements coming but it would be a while before they arrived.

The forces from the Vale had begun their march to his aid but it would be a month before they arrived.  He would have them too harass and snipe the enemy. 

He had sent more ravens asking them to find his wife Catelyn and her prisoner the dwarf Tyrion Lannister and bring them to King’s Landing.

They had answered.  They were sending out scouts to find her.  If she could be found she would be.  She would be kept safe and Tyrion Lannister would be brought to King’s Landing to justice.

It was his son Robb who was marshalling and training hurriedly in the North who would be his main force.  Robb would lead the Army that would fight any true war if Eddard could not fulfill his nascent plans.  Many were only taking form but he was beginning to see the clear route to a victory with little death and destruction for all involved.

After he had set his initial forces of the North and his traditional allies, Eddard Stark turned his focus on the rest of Westeros.

He sent more ravens to the other strongholds.  He had felt more confidence sending them with his official seal.  He had asked Varys to retrieve his signet ring if at all possible.  The bald eunuch had given him his beatific smiled and said he “would see what he could do”. 

Eddard had not held out much help but the next night Varys on his visit had handed him the ring with a smug look.

“But … but how?” Eddard asked.  He expected a long convoluted story of deception and intrigue.

“It was on your desk in the Tower of the Hand half buried under now forgotten correspondence.  The Hand’s tower for now abandon.  Your signet ring is of no concern to Cersei or Joffrey Lannister.  Why should it be?  You are free yes but gone to ground somewhere in King’s Landing.  I used a hidden corridor to enter your quarters unseen.  Now you have your ring.”

With his official seal Eddard was ready now to speak to the Houses of the South.  He told them of Cersei Lannister’s killing of Robert Baratheon by poisoning his drink.  Eddard grimaced.  It was a half-truth at best.  She had only spiked his drink.  The boar may have killed Robert anyways.  Still, in essence she had poisoned his drink.  She was guilty of treason.

Eddard had already sent word of that to Stannis.  The truth of Cersei’s children’s parentage.  There was no reason to hide it now.  He sent Ravens to all the houses so the truth would be known.  Eddard asked them to find the book that Jon Arryn had discovered if they had copies.  To read the passages he noted. If not, he would provide the book when they arrived in King’s Landing after he had taken over the Iron Throne.

Insurrection against the Iron Throne was necessary.  He Eddard Stark would ascend the throne of Aegon and take what he should have a generation ago.  He would be King of all of Westeros.

He did leave out the fact he was a cripple now.  He was sure the truth would be out soon if not already.  Eddard saw no reason to add to his difficulties.

He had not been surprised by the results of his messages.  Dorne would analyze the situation and Doran would decide the best course of action.  Blast, why couldn’t Oberyn be the leader of House Martell.  That man would be whipping his horse mercilessly to get to King’s Landing to have a shot at Gregor Clegane.

House Tyrell asked basically—what is in it for us?  Eddard knew this was not Mace but Olenna who was the true power of the most powerful House in Westeros.  The real question was who you will offer in marriage to my son or grandson.  He already knew the answer necessary to that inquiry.

Stannis had responded with “we will see about that”.  This was the one House he worried about.  Without his physical prowess he feared the outcome.  Stannis was still in his prime and a wily fighter.  Robb had still not reached his full adult strength and had not been leavened with combat.  Eddard would worry about that later.

House Greatjoy he was not surprised to read from Balon that he declared himself the king of the Iron Islands.  Eddard grimaced.  He had a plan to bring him down but he would need time for that.  Would he have time?

Eddard knew Renly was out there with plans of his own that would not coincide with his older brother’s plans.  Renly only _thought_ he was a warrior.  He was a politician.  In the end, one still needed to be a true warrior to take and hold the Iron Throne.  Eddard would take care of this problem too.

To House Lannister he was direct.  He would hold his family hostage.  If Tywin defied Eddard he made it clear to the old lion he would put to the sword immediately his daughter and grandchildren.  Eddard would take power before Tywin had any chance of success in rescuing his family.  Eddard did not put in his scroll that he himself most seriously doubted his own chances of success. 

He informed Tywin Lannister he would be held accountable for the deaths of Elia and her children.  That would give him something to think about.  Tywin may not have done the heinous acts but it had been his directives that led to their deaths. 

He had almost opposed Robert for his callous acceptance of those deaths.  Why hadn’t he?!  He had wondered that many times over the years.  Westeros would be in such a better place if he had.

He had received one unexpected source of support.  It seemed that Robert’s Rebellion had been forecast by the Druids.  Their prophecies had foretold of it and that it would lead to the events that were occurring now.

Eddard grimaced.  Of course almost all said that he should have been dead already.  Their prophecies spoke of the grizzled wolf’s death and the slaughter and scattering of his offspring.

Sansa was to become a dark thing in the Vale.  Robb dead.  Jon dead by the hand of the Ice King he had killed but risen again.  He was not sure what that meant.  Bran was to become a Greenseer.  Rickkon was to be killed. 

It was Arya that would become the most transformed.  She was to go to Braavos and become a Faceless Man.  She would excel and become their best assassin.  She would grow strong and cold.  She would kill without remorse.

While this was occurring the Dragon Queen would work across Essos and finally take Westeros.  Then Arya would be sent to assassinate the Queen.  Instead his daughter would swear allegiance to the Dragon Queen.  Some of the prophecies even had her to become Daenerys’ Queen and together they would finally put the Ice King down for good.  Jon had not succeeded in permanently killing the dreaded hoary king of Ice Wrights.

That was what all but two of their prophecies had spoken.  Now they were living these prophecies.  Unfortunately, they were very incomplete and vague or the Druids were not fully telling him all.  They kept saying that he needed freedom of choice or else he would become a tool.  A tool had no power to change destiny.  To change destiny for the better.  Thus, they would not speak of it to him.

He did know that the Druids had totally sided with Eddard Stark.  Since the time of Robert’s rebellion they had been crisscrossing Westeros hoping that the prophecies of hope would occur.

Thus, they were able to send their ravens anywhere having fully mapped out all of Westeros.  They had scouts throughout the land.  Those scouts in the West were now fighting the Lannisters.  They fought from afar with their longbows.  As troops marched from three or four hundred yards away arrows came whistling in killing sergeants, leutents, captains, majors and even two colonels. 

Three female Druids had taken up residence in a brothel near Lannisport.  They were prostitutes for a week blending in.  The last night in the brothel they had slit a general, four colonels and seven majors throats.  They had left a coin of the Faceless Men behind to throw off the scent.

That idea made Eddard shiver.  All feared the Faceless Men.  They were like shadows that one could never hope to fight against. He was thankful that his daughter would not now become one.  He hoped to never meet one.

He saw Arya walk back out of the alleyway.  In her hands was the squirming Bengal cat.  She had of course caught it.  She had the scratches to show for it.  She saw her father looking down at her. She held the cat up with a shit eating grin on her face.

He waved down.  She beamed up at him and approached their residence.  She was making him so proud.

His visage darkened.  His thoughts on Sansa.  She had betrayed him.  There would have to be punishment.

He stared out the window morosely now.  Thoughts of Sansa’s betrayal hurt Eddard deeply.  He had yet to tell Arya of it.  He was not strong enough yet.  Arya had never liked Sansa and did not want to face her anger when he told her.

He looked up at the sun as it approached noon.  Merrel had been gone almost two weeks now.  Time was fleeting.  All the combined actions would be delaying the Lannister forces marching south and east but … he needed his health back!

He did not believe in his heart that Merrel could do as he said but what man would not grab a life line hurled to him in a stormy sea.  He needed his leg whole and hale to succeed!  He needed to be able to meet the physical threats he knew would come his way.  He wanted to lead.  He wanted to lead so he could protect those he loved.  He wanted to make this vision of the Druids come true.

He sat for a few minutes.  His leg had started to throb badly.  It pained him greatly.  He would rest.

He slowly levered himself up cursing silently as he reached for his walking stick and began hobbling back to his bed.

From nowhere a crushing pain slammed into his leg.  His leg was on fire and horrible pain slammed into his mind and body.  Eddard collapsed screaming in searing pain his leg on fire and the very bones exploding in agony.


	15. Renewed Strength

Insurrection

Renewed Strength

 

The sun was warm beating down on Eddard’s face as he stood atop the four story dwelling that Merrel had purchased long ago he had found out.  He had begun to wonder about the age of Merrel.  The ages of all the Druids actually.  He had come to suspect that somehow they aged at a slower pace than was the norm.

They would make statements of events that had occurred generations ago if not centuries.  He had not pursued it.  He was just thankful for all they had done for him.  What they had done for the realm.

He was deeply in their debt.  They had directly aided in the survival of his precious daughter.  It had been their force of arms that had allowed Arya and Syrio to save him from dudgeons. The unexpected arrival of so many Lannister forces in the dungeons would have overwhelmed his daughter, Syrio and the old honor guard of Rhaegar Targaryen that had joined his Insurrection. 

He did not want to call it a rebellion.  His childhood friend, Robert Baratheon, had forever soured that word for Eddard Stark.  By the old gods Robert had been a waste as a ruler.  His slovenly rule leading Westeros into debt and disdain from coast to coast and across the Narrow Sea to Essos.

The Warden of the North and the man who would be king tilted his face up to the sun.  He was on the east side of the four story building.  The rising sun striking his face warming it felt good. He reached up and touched his ears and the back of his neck.  They were burning but Kiren of the Druids had given him a balm to put on them.  He shook his head and missed the feel of his hair on his neck and resting on his shoulders.

Seeing how Syrio had cut his daughter’s hair to disguise her had given him the same idea.  He had Phirona Ormonnis cut his hair close to his head.  He now looked like some conscript in the Dorne military.  He chuckled.  His face was too weathered and craggy for that look.  Maybe an instructor.

He had also cut off his beard for the first time sense he rode off to war in Robert’s Rebellion.  His skin pale.  He was not getting much sun.  He did have to admit that the short hair and no beard made him feel less overheated in this broiling sun.

He had even taken the additional measure of dyeing his hair jet black.  He was a totally different man when he looked at himself in the mirror.  He had tested his new look by walking on the streets and alleyways of Flea Bottom.  No one gave him a second look.  Good.  That was what he wanted.

He could now move about in King’s Landing to do raconteur.  He had a kingdom to take.  He needed to see what he was up against.  Arya and Syrio’s attacks had made Cersei pull her forces back into the Red Keep.

Eddard walked to the North side of the building.  Walking!  Another thing he had to thank the Druids for.  He stopped a moment.  He needed to thank Varys for sending Arya to Merrel.  The man had done what he said he would.  He had healed Eddard’s leg. 

When the sudden pain had hit him five days ago he had thought he was having burning oil dropped on him.  The pain had been beyond excoriating.  It had nearly driven him insane it was so great.  Merrel had told him that in taking his injury into himself they would be connected for a short moment of transference and each would not only feel their own injury but the others injury as well.

He had been right.  Eddard thanked the old gods that he had passed out.  When he finally came to several hours later the pain was gone and his leg was as if nothing had ever happened to it.  His caretakers had put him to bed.  They had spread the word that his injury had been healed.  Not only was it healed but the muscles had not seemed to have atrophied at all or the ligaments and tendons stiffened from lack of use.  It was as if the injury had never occurred.  He would forever be in the Druid’s debt.

Eddard looked out across King’s Landing to see the curtain wall off in the distance to the North.  He owed the Druids much more than their current help.

He had been shocked and grieved when the Druid had told Eddard Stark of his family’s past sins against the First People and against the very land he was sworn to uphold.  The legends the Starks had passed down to themselves had made their House heroic and the shining example of honor and rectitude.  To learn otherwise had left a sour taste in his mouth.

To know now that instead of working with the Children of the Forest his family had committed genocide on them was almost breathtaking it was so vile and revolting.  How could have his ancestors been so cruel?  Eddard knew.  They had wanted the land that the Children of the First resided on.  His ancestors had been willing to commit genocide to get it. 

His ancestors disgusted him.  Bran the Builder!  How could he have done such a thing!  It was worse.

It was his family’s persecution that had made the Children of the Forest create the Ice King.  The foe he knew had to be met and eventually killed or again subdued for hopefully another eight thousand years.  They had created a weapon they could not control.  The weapon had proven to be a double edged sword that struck all before it.

To add a further insult to it all the Ice King was a Stark!  He leaned against the retaining wall on the building.  The ice king was indeed Darik Stark.  The man he was told by the Druids was a craven man and hunted by his fellow Starks for his crimes and had fled to the North to escape.  There the Children of the Forest in their desperation had transformed Darik Stark into the Ice Wright King.

Eddard slammed his fist into the wall.  He must make amends!  He would make amends.

He walked over to the west side of the building and looked down.  There was a small square where four alleyways converged.  Down in it Eddard saw Syrio and Arya along with some urchin children.

Syrio had Arya following his example.  The man was on the ball of his right foot as was Arya.  Syrio had has arms extended and his left foot extended out in front of him.  His body did not move at all.  His body rigid as if he was a statue.  Arya was beside him in the same pose.  Syrio was like marble while Arya was more like potters clay constantly morphing slightly as a leg or arm jerked to keep her in balance.

The small children were laughing and falling all over themselves attempting to keep the same pose.  “Other foot” Syrio would call out and he and Arya flexed their right leg and jumped up switching feet and landed on the ball of their left foot.  Syrio landed as light as a gazelle and was immediately rigid again on his left foot.  Arya landed and had to bobble but after two jerks of her arm was in positon.

The children squealed falling all over each other attempting the move.  Eddard smiled at both his daughter’s rising skill and the fun the children were having.  Eddard thought they were safe enough.  No one in Flea Bottom had any use for the dissipated throne.  To the citizens of Flea Bottom Syrio and Arya were just one of them exercising in a slightly bizarre manner.

The Lannisters were still in the Red Keep licking the wounds Syrio, Arya and the Druids had given the lions.

Eddard stepped back from the edge of the roof.  How hard could it be?  He slowly rose to one foot and his eyes widen finding it much more difficult than he would have assumed.  He finally found his balance but could feel the strain already.  This was not a position a Knight found themselves in.

Okay he had mastered that well enough.  _Let’s jump to the other foot_.  He flexed his leg and jumped up and landed on the ball of his other foot.  _That was the plan_.  His arms wind milled and he wildly tried to maintain his balance but went crashing to the rooftop. 

He looked around embarrassed.  His eyes saw Klissa of the Druids chuckling her hood pulled back.  “Well done Eddard Stark.  Well done.  NOT!”  She went back into the shack and down the stairs.

His pride had survived worse.

//////////

Arya was in the practice room that had been set aside so she could practice her sword work with her Water Dancer Master.  She had enjoyed exercising out in the sun but their sword practice had to remain inside.  To exercise out in the sun was no big thing but slashing swords even if wood would draw attention.  Attention they could not afford. 

Whack whack whack … whack whack … the sounds of their swords colliding was loud in the room.

“Again Arya … right high high low left low right left high right left left” her master constantly barking out where to have her sword.

“Be sharp in your movements Arya—like a tack.  Be precise like a rapier’s point.  Back back forward block high high low lunge …”

Arya was exhilarated with her training.  Syrio was beginning to teach her offensive moves now.  She never knew what he would bark at her next … she loved it!

“Stop!  Rest a moment my disciple.”  Arya loved it when he said “my disciple”.  While she idled she let her mind drift back to when Syrio had informed her of his gong to her father to ask if she could become his disciple.   She had been so nervous when Syrio had informed her of this.  That he had spoken to her father about becoming his disciple.  That he had asked her father to let him teach her to become a Water Dancer.  Her master had let it hang.

“AND?!” she had asked breathless hoping for the best but fearing the worst.

“He said yes girl!  You are to become my disciple.  I will teach you to be the Water Dancer I already know you are.  I am so thankful that you came to me.”

She had finally asked him a question that had been gnawing at her mind for a while.  “How did you come into the employee of my father?  You are from Braavos far from home.  How did my father even know of you?”

“He did not.  He had sent word out by minions asking for a teacher for his young daughter.  I was in tavern near the red keep nursing my old hurts when, I hate to remind you of him Arya, but Jory Cassel came into the establishment.  He had a few strong pints of ail and he suddenly gets up on the bar and tells the whole room “I have been given a task to find a sword instructor for my master’s young daughter.  She is possessed by the wolf but she is strong and feral!  Is any man brave enough to take on the task?!  None have survived her ire before!”

He fell off the bar and drunkenly sat back down.

“I don’t know Arya.  I was intrigued.  A girl?  Feral? What man would let his daughter train in the ways of the sword I wondered to myself?  Did he pay good money? … I hesitate to say this but I did not expect much from you girl.  I expected you to be a spoiled princess.”

“But like I said, I was intrigued.  I went to your father in his quarters in the tower of the Hand.  He looked up from his desk surprised.  I had easily slipped his posted guards.”

“How did you get past my guards sir?” he intoned quietly.  I had my rapier on my hip and his sword was in the corner of the room.

“Look for you cannot see.  Listen for you cannot hear.  A Water Dancer is never where he seems.  He lives in the shadows.  I told your father this child.”

“I told him I am Syrio Forel.  First sword of Braavos.  He surprised me by knowing of me.  He reminded me I had left my post in disgrace.  I admit I got hot and spat at him that a Faceless Man got past all the defenses of the SeaLord.  That I had advised against the party hearing rumors of a Faceless Man on the grounds.  The idiot had refused to listen.  He was always reckless.”

She had asked her sword instructor what happened between her father and Syrio.  Why had her father accepted him as her sword instructor?

“Your father slowly stood up girl. He went to his scabbard in the corner and pulled out his sword.  I pulled out my rapier.”

“’Prove to me you are worthy of teaching my daughter Water Dancer’ he spoke calmly.  He seemed totally relaxed but I was ready.  He attacked with no warning.  But I am Syrio Forel.  I had my rapier out and met his blow and shunted it aside.”

“For fifteen minutes it was pure poetry in motion Arya Stark.  Both of us were only holding back a small fraction of our speed and power.  The sounds of swords colliding and skirting up each other was a heavenly symphony.”

“The sight of our blades making beautiful paths in the air was like a fine Prizmeil mo Huzke fresco.” 

“The finest poets of old Valyria would have wept writing prose of our sword prowess Arya.”

Arya had thought that her Master was laying it on a little thick at the time.

Arya snapped back to the present with a hard whack on her elbow.

“Keep you mind on the present girl!  If not, feel my wood on your person.”

She glared at her master.  He could be such a hard ass sometimes.  They rested for a minute more.

“It is time we train again—no?”

Arya merely shook her head yes.

“Arya when a foe is assailing you from your weak right side I want—“

Suddenly Sryio dropped down and swept his right leg out to sweep her legs and put Arya on her ass and then put his wooden sword to her throat.  Only she was not there!  She had jumped back and then stepped forward whistling her sword down at her master.  He easily blocked with his sword crossed over and pivoted on his left foot away and came up with his sword before him.

“How did you know Arya?”

“Your words said one thing but your eyes said something else.”

Arya felt good seeing a smile come across his face.  “Good.  Good.  I knew I selected you for a reason” he said smugly.  Arya knew it had been provenance that had brought Syrio to her.  She was only thankful that he had come into her life.

The door to their practice studio opened and her father walked in.  Arya looked at him intently.  He simply looked like another man with his hair closely cropped, his beard shaved off and the black die in his hair.  He looked like he was from southern Highgarden and not of the North.  She knew that was her father’s goal.

“Please proceed Arya.  I came to watch.”  Arya knew that was not true.  Why did he have a sword scabbard on his hip with the sword in it?

For the next fifteen minutes Syrio continued to put Arya through her paces.  He was relentless and freely whacked her on her sides, arms and hands.  Eddard did not once protest at the treatment of his daughter.  Arya loved her father all the more for it.  He was truly letting her train to become a Water Dancer.

Finally, Syrio called a halt to Arya’s lesson for the day.  “I believe you have learned enough for one day little wolf.  I think the grizzled wolf wishes to again test his prowess against the great Syrio Forel.”

“Has not anyone taught you it is unseemly to boast Water Dancer?  Pride comes before the fall.” Arya saw her father smirking at Syrio.

“I will show you pride before the fall Warden of the North.  I, Syrio Forel, will teach you humility!” he too had a smirk on his face.  He whipped out his real rapier! Arya saw.  Her father pulled out the sword that had been purchased from the cheap part of the Street of Steel.  It was not the exquisite workmanship of his old war sword or Ice of course but her father had said it was “good enough”.

The two men rushed each other and Arya cried out in fear for them.  They were moving in a blur.  The two men slashed savagely at each other.  Her father easily blocked Syrio’s swiping sword thrusts and hacks.  Syrio’s light blade could not stop a full down hack with two hands but he impossibly met each such strike and shunted the blade to the side.  Syrio used finesse and skill on a supreme level to meet each savage stroke and guide it aside. 

Her father blocked his opponent’s sword thrusts with his heavier blade.  He did not try to outright avoid the blows choosing to meet each one with his sword as the rule Arya saw.  He made exceptions when Syrio started to get inside his guard and Eddard would spin to the side or jump back with a skill that matched Syrio’s but Arya saw he only did that as last resort.

Syrio would advance thrusting forward thrusting and make swirling swipes from any angle but her father somehow seemed to sense Syrio’s vectors of attack.  He was ready for the Water Dancer’s attacks.  He was ready and blocked Syrio’s blade aside.

Syrio on the other hand often chose to jump, duck, juke, dive and roll to avoid many of her father’s blows all together.  Arya never knew in which direction his Water Dance moves would take him.  She sensed her father was not often sure either but his ability to adjust left her jaw hanging open in awe of his speed and reactions.

They fought back and forth their swords a blur and the sound of metal slamming into each other loud in the room.  They would surge into each other and lock swords up their tips pointing up and their bodies pressed into each other.  The two men grunting and sweating as they pressed into each other and pushed and pulled on each other’s bodies.

Arya knew that if this was true combat that fists, kicks, knees and head-butts would have been used to inflect bodily harm on each other.  The men were merely practicing their sword and avoided such fisticuffs. 

Several times the men would slide their swords down the shaft of their opponent’s blade and attempt to jab forward but their opponent would counter with counterforce and angles to then send their blade back down their foe’s blade.  Back and forth till faster than her eye could follow one or the other would whip their sword to the side and hack in with a new attack.

For twenty minutes Arya and gathering druids and Rhaegar’s honor guard filed into the room to watch.  Arya heard the murmurs of appreciation and outright awe.  They were witnessing two men who were one with their blades. 

All felt honored to be in their presence.

Finally, by some unseen signal both men stopped and lifted their hilts up to their faces and bowed to each other in mutual respect.

“You have a true master Arya.  Learn from him” Eddard spoke to his daughter roughing her hair up as he passed her.  “Syrio, would you care to dine with me tonight?”

“I would be honored Eddard Stark.  Warden of the North and future King of Westeros.”

The room murmured ascent.

Arya beamed. 

//////////

Up high in the sky the first one appeared wheeling around lazily soon after the sun rose into the sky. The large bird warmed by the sun slowly stretched its wings from its roost and flew up into the sky.  The bird flapping its wings in short bursts and then gliding on the rising thermals that started to form with the sun warming the air.

The bird rose up in a lazy wide circles looking at the sky and down to the ground.  The bird was soon over the hills of its territory. The bird rose higher and circled beginning its daily search for food.  The bird was now joined by a few of his brothers and sisters.  The mighty condors circling gazing upon the ground for carrion.  Other condors were rising up from the roost and many flying off to all points of the compass looking for the dead or dying to consume.

The bird saw a possible meal on the ground to the north and rode the thermals along with six of its fellow condors and now circled over the fallen animal.  The bird with its sharp sight spied on the fallen body looking for any signs of life.  The body was motionless.  The bird and his fellow roost mates were wary by nature.  The birds looked around the small clearing.  They saw only a horse cropping grass.  They looked for any small scavengers.

The scavengers the large birds could intimidate and keep at bay if they were small like foxes or jackals.  None were present.  They looked for larger predators such as wolverines, hyenas or the various large cats that still roamed the depths of these woods.  They had seen no packs of wolves in this area for several months as the packs ever moved on in their territories.

The condor winged lower and still saw no danger.  The figure had not moved for an hour now.  The bird was about to decide to descend and test the fallen animal.  A sudden jerk of the fallen form made the bird hesitate.  Was it some final death throes?  The bird circled observing.  Now the fallen animal sat up and looked around.  Its limbs began to move.

The condor and his brethren ceased their descent.  For the next few minutes the condors saw the fallen animal clearly reviving.  This would not be a meal today.  The birds flapped their wings gaining attitude and circled off.

Merrel slowly felt his body reviving.  Distance and more importantly time had made the healing of Eddard Stark arduous.  The pain had nearly drove him insane as he was sure it had been crippling to the Warden of the North.  Only through shared pain and injury could renewal be achieved.  Only by suffering the same injury as the owner of the original hurt could Merrel heal the person.  The healing was almost a mystical binding of two into one for the brief moment of the injury.

He breathed deep.  He was weak and wane but he was essentially whole.  In King’s Landing he knew Eddard Stark was reviving and finding his leg hale.  Merrel smiled at that.  Let his healed leg show the man that magic did indeed exist.  He was to become Warden or more than just man.  He was to become so much more.  He was to become Warden of magic that was too renewed in the near future.  He needed to become used to it.

Merrel looked up into the azure sky that had no clouds in it.  He saw the condors rising up and circling off.  “Not today my friends.  Maybe tomorrow but not today.”

The Druids did not bury their dead in the ground or burn them.  If possible they created a low lying pyre to place the body on and lay any personal artifacts on the pyre hat may have had importance to the Druid in life.  Their bows were never left.  The bow passed onto the next rising generation. 

He tisk to the horse that was off a ways cropping grass.  He reached into the bag he had left near his spot of restoration for the sugar cubes he had saved for this moment. An inducement to give to the horse to help it forgive his earlier mistreatment of it making it fall awkwardly.  The horse saw the sugary cubes.  Its ears twitched and it neighed softly and quickly moved over and lipped up the proffered cubes and greedily ate them.

Merrel levered himself up to the tips of his feet and gripped horse for balance.  His world spun but it righted soon enough.  He urged the horse to his items he had in his camp.  He opened the saddle bag with the last of the oats and poured them on the ground. The horse’s eyes opened wide with happiness and the horse bent its head down and eagerly ate the bounty offered.

Merrel ate the waycakes he had from the last Druid lodge and the beef jerky.  He drank from his canteen. He looked off to the path that led back down from the escapement.  He sensed a large predator there.  He was not afraid.  The druids had long ago made peace with the large predators of Westeros.  The animals knew and taught their young that the Druids were their friends.

He rested with his back to a large boulder till past noon.  He had been nude till now.  He now put on a fresh rob  he had saved for after the healing.  He buried the other beneath a small urn or rocks.  It would rot back into the Earth.  He saddled his horse and got back on it.  He moved forward back to the path that would lead him down from the high plateau.  He would go to the small Druid encampment that was four miles distant.  He came to the trees that flanked the path leading down.

It was there in the immediate woods. He could feel it watching him.  He looked around on the ground.  He looked up.  He scanned right and left.  There she was.  He was very familiar with this predator.  A large were-direwolf was perched up on a limb forty feet above him. Its large light brown eyes with large grey flecks looking down at him.  Were animals were rare. Humans and spirits merged into one.  They were neither but a new creation.  Powerful and dire they were.  They tended to be solitary animals but not his one.

“I see you have been watching.  Did you see my anguish?  Did you think of eating me old friend?”

The animal was in its half human form as it stood up on its hind limbs and jumped down to the ground. The animal rolled forward and onto its hind legs.  Its forelimbs long and gangly its fingers sporting long claws that could disembowel him with one swipe.  The mighty beast was taller than him even with his height on the horse. 

The horse was frightened and started to rear.  The were-direwolf’s arm whipped out and gripped the horse’s mane and jerked it head back down.  Its other clawed hand whipped out and gripped the other side of the horse’s neck with a handful of mane.  The were-direwolf jammed its snout into the horse’s nose.  They locked eyes.  The horse immediately calmed.  The were-direwolf muzzled the now calm horse.

The dire-werewolf stepped back and stared at the druid.

“What now?” Merrel asked the beast.

It tilted its head back and a mighty unearthly howl filled the sky.  For miles around all stopped and listened to the powerful call and acknowledged that the true alpha of this part of the Kingswood had spoken.

The beast was covered in a sudden nimbus of purple flashing lights and its body flowed to the form of a direwolf of almost nightmarish proportions.  This direwolf was nearly the size of his horse.  The wolf stared up at Merrel and growled steadily with locked eyes.  Then the mighty magical creature turned and was gone.

Merrel relaxed.  The beast was fickle.  He knew he was safe but the beast was temperamental.  He was never sure what mood he would find the beast when he would meet it the next time.  He smiled.  It made life exciting.  He had been away for too long.  He would soon have to go back to King’s Landing.  He had an Insurrection to support.

He sensed that truly great times were afoot.  The wolf and the dragon would finally lie together.  That pairing had been thwarted a generation past.  The cost had been most terrible.  Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark had deserved such a better fate than they had met.  Damn Rhaegar for being so impetuous.  He was a Targaryen for crying out loud.  Surely he could seen that he merely had to marry Lyanna and have the three headed dragon of his House.

The current generation would only be two heads.   No matter.

He slowly walked his horse down the path.  The large trees welcoming to the Druid.  Even the trees acknowledged the wardens of the Earth.  Even the oldest of trees could no longer remember the true wardens of Westeros.  The Children of the Forest had been gone too long.

Eddard Stark and the Dragon Queen would begin the rebirth of balance and health in the land of Westeros.

He moved back into the old forests of the Kingswood.  These sharp hills had never know the horror of the ax and the burn of unnatural fire and the cutting of the Earth with iron plows.  The land here was strong with its original vitality.

His path winded between mighty oaks, spruces and maples.  He came upon a small stretch of thinned out trees that still had mighty trees spreading out their mighty bows blocking out much of the sunlight only letting in beautiful dabbled painting of light on the ground.  The beams of light that looked so solid you could cup them in your hand.

The ground was covered with running vines and ferns.  The very air seemed green with all the verdant foliage.

He moved on.  He was soon in the old growth trees again.

Four hours later he was in the home of the Druids in this hidden valley.  The trees towering.  A traveler would not find any habitations on the ground.  A teenager came out from behind a tree and took his horse as Merrel got off his horse.  A rope ladder was dropped and he climbed up into the canopy. He was soon walking on the tops of mighty bows and entering the homes of Druids that had been constructed around the trunks and down mighty limbs.  The roofs and much of the walls made of limbs that had been blended together for generations to make water tight habitations.

He talked with leader of this village.  All was quiet.  Four more Druids had left a week ago for King’s Landing.  No more could be spared.  They had duties to attend to in the forest and needed to always keep their guard up.  The land needed constant protection.  They had learned their lessons in the Age of Heroes.

Merrel was offered a room in the leader’s home but he declined.  He preferred to sleep in the lodge at the edge of the valley.  The woman understood.  She had a smirk on her face.  He supped with them over dinner.  Her wife was most genteel and a great cook.  Their three children models of politeness and decorum.

He went down the rope ladder and slowly made his way to the lodge.  The sun had set an hour ago.  He heard owls hooting and deer walking in the forest to the left.  He paused.  The deer bolted.  He sighed.  He had been followed.  She was never far he knew.

He entered the lodge.  He was tired still from the ordeal of healing Eddard Stark.  He took off his robe and crawled into the bed of lichen, animal hair stuffed between layers of hay and thin sheets of linen on top of blankets of wool.  The lodge did not have a door this close to the Druid establishment.  He got into bed and started to get drowsy.

He did not hear it but he sensed it nevertheless.  In the half moon light he saw the mighty were-direwolf in the doorway on all fours staring at him.  It looked at him with unblinking eyes.  Their eyes locked.

He finally held up the edge of his covers.

The mighty were-direwolf was covered in purple lights that flashed and pulsed up and down the length of its body.

“Come to me my wife.”

The now human female crawled onto the bed and snuggled into the body of her husband.

“I don’t like you leaving me Merrel.  I hate it.”

“You know it is necessary.  The land of Westeros needs its wardens.”

The woman growled deep in her chest.

“Your brother lives.”

“What?! … That is impossible!”

“No the prophecies were wrong.  Eddard Stark lives.”


	16. Coming to Terms

Insurrection

Coming to Terms

 

tinkle tinkle tinkle tinkle tinkle

Varys sighed.  He turned from his desk.  He simply could find no true peace anymore.  His inner sanctum had been violated.  He was no longer truly safe in his inner sanctum.  His bastion of solitude had been breached.  He had been the ghost mercurial appearing at a time of his own chosen.  He found it most disconcerting to find the slipper on the other foot.

He still remembered acutely finding a dagger to his throat and Arya coming to stand before him with righteous fury in her eyes.  He had thought his life was over.  His goals left unattended like some carrion left out for the vultures to descend and pick his bones clean.  His ambitions and plans diffuse and torn apart like dried bones slowly wasting away on the plains that surrounded King’s Landing.

He had found the answers that had saved his life.  He was indeed alive but he now felt the weight of others now constantly weighing on him.  It could have been worse.  He had found that wolves and water dancers much more preferable than lions.  He shuddered at the thought of Cersei and Joffrey knowing of his tunnels.

He had used those tunnels to bring in a stone mason to install small gargoyles around his room.  The additions added to appear as if they had been part of the decor for generations.  He had no visitors so no one would know  the difference.

He had grown tired of Syrio barging in on him unannounced.  He had come several times with Arya and then Merrel of the druids as they planned on what to tell Cersei as they planned their Insurrection and the freeing of Eddard Stark.

He had helped them to merely save his life.  Syrio had ensured his loyalty with forced writing of the incriminating letters.  If Cersei ever read those while she still had power Varys knew he would be summarily executed.  Varys knew that all of his sovereigns had despised him.  The sovereigns were always quick to use the information Varys provided them.  They were always happy to come to him for information or for him to give council that they needed currently.  He gave them what they sought but he knew they felt soiled in needing to use his services.

Varys turned to look at the hidden door being opened slowly.  He had installed the gargoyles so he could have the one with the hidden hollowed out area within it put on the former hidden door.  In that hollow a small bell had been install.  Varys would at least know he was about to die if the wrong person came through the door.

Varys saw it was not Syrio.  His eyes widened slightly.  Maybe today was not so good a day to die.

It was Eddard Stark that stood by the aperture of the now fully pushed back hidden door.  He walked in a step and turned to look at the gargoyle.  He moved the door to and fro several times listening to the bell tinkle.  He gave the gargoyle a squint smile.

Varys was about to make a smart remark about he could have one installed in Eddard’s quarters.

In a flash the man pulled his sword out and swirled and stepped in so fast that Varys only barley registered that the man had moved. 

“Oohhhhhhh!” Varys squeaked.  Eddard’s sword point was pricking his Adam’s apple.  Varys gulped very carefully feeling blood trickle down his throat.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t jam my sword through your throat and kill you for your treason.  I do feel you have betrayed more than myself.”

Varys considered his options.  He determined he had only one recourse.  He would try something he rarely did.  He would be totally honest.

“You should kill me then.  I did indeed betray you.  I warned you several times the recourse of your actions.  You refused to listen to me.  You went blindly down your path of ‘honor’ and ‘sanctimonious haughty self-righteousness’.  You told Cersei of your actions before you even did them.  You told a love struck teenager of your plans.  A poor lass who was so enamored in childish dreams you and your wife instilled in her from the cradle she really had no choice but to betray you.  She is paying the price for that betrayal now.”

“You came south to King’s Landing ill prepared to be ‘Hand’.  You were easily manipulated and led astray.  I take that back.  You led yourself astray.  Did you write down Robert Baratheon’s true last wishes I wonder?  Those words you read did not ring true to me.  Did you follow that self-righteous code of honor when it really mattered?”

“We both know the answer to that.”

“So did I betray you?  Yes.  But did I betray you to Cersei Lannister.  I did not.  I did not wish your downfall.  Even if I did I would not have needed to lift a finger.  You devised your own demise Eddard Stark.”

“Your blind adherence to a ‘nobility’ (Varys almost sneered the word) and doing what was ‘right’ and ‘just’ led to your downfall.  I could only watch you play the fool.  You are not meant to play the Game of Thrones.”

“It was your daughter who saw injustice and acted.  She did not stop and weigh her actions on some balance scale to make sure it was ‘right’ and ‘honorable’.  She acted.  She did what her environment dictated.  You should have followed the more base instincts at times Eddard Stark.  Your sigil is of the wild and untamable Direwolf.  Act like it.”

As Varys had spoken his soliloquy he saw Eddard’s eyes narrow ever so slightly.  He betrayed no other reaction.  His sword did not waver from his neck.  Varys was still bleeding but the blade moved no closer to impaling his throat.

“And you are the noble aspirant of something truly grand and just?  The harbinger of something grandeur?”  Eddard asked quietly in rejoinder.

 Varys snorted.  The man simply had to put everything in terms of stark black and white.  He snorted at the unintentional pun.

“I claim no grand vision Eddard Stark.  I think in some ways we want the same things.”

Eddard snorted himself now.  “I don’t think so whisperer.  You betrayed me.”

Now Varys laughed hard.  If Eddard had not pulled his sword back Varys may have fatally cut himself.  Eddard still had his sword a fraction of any inch from his throat.  Eddard looked at him half exasperated with now a hint of amusement.

“Are trying to have me kill you whisperer?”

“Heavens no Eddard.  I wish to live as much as if not more so than the next man.”

“And why pre tale is that?”

“I wish to try and bring something better into this realm Eddard Stark.  I want peace or … i am not sure how to phrase it … something that actually helps the common man.  To find someone who might seek what is right for all.  To find a man or a woman for that matter who truly puts the needs of the many before the needs of the few or the one.  I wish to serve someone worthy of the service.”

“Aerys II was mad.  Tywin is, to excuse my Dorne, a fucking asshole.  Robert Baratheon was a drunkard and dissipated ruler who has bankrupted the realm.  You are an idealistic fool who not only blindly followed standards that have no application in the real world but told his main nemesis every step he planned to undo her with.”

“You Eddard Stark deserved your fate.  Now kill me if you must.”

“It would be my mercy that would not have me kill you now Varys.  You are arguing against the very things that would save you now.  You claim to want a just leader but then heap scorn on the attributes that would lead to such a rule.”

Varys smiled at Eddard.  “You are starting understand.  If only a little.”

Eddard dropped his sword. 

“You never had any intention in killing me Eddard Stark.”

Eddard turned his head giving him a ‘you had better be careful look’. 

“It is you nature to forgive where you can.  That is noble and just Eddard Stark.  But it can’t be the end of all your thoughts and actions.  I saved your life by aiding Arya.”

“You mean making sure Syrio did not send out those written ‘confessions’. 

Varys grimaced.  “You have me there Eddard.  The truth is I wanted to help you daughter save you.

Now Eddard laughed.

“It is true” Varys smiled wryly.  “I am hoping you have learned balance.  Your fall was spectacular even if was of your own doing.  Eddard Stark your sense of honor and justice is admirable and righteous.  It is also right.”

“Butttttt … I can hear it coming Varys.”

Varys smiled wryly again.  “Eddard … we can never be friends after what has transpired between us …”

Eddard cocked an eyebrow.

Varys considered.  The man was very astute.  Varys thought if only he can see the forest for the trees.

“I confess Eddard.  I have no true friends.”  Varys thought for a moment.  “I will take that back.  I do have a true friend.  A man I want you to meet.  Illyrio Mopatis of Pentos.”  Varys could see that from the expression that the name meant nothing Eddard Stark.  Why should it with Eddard safely tucked away in the North.

“We are masters at the Game of Thrones.  Cersei is a bumbling fool at it.  Joffrey is simply a mad idiot.  Petyr Baelish is a master also.  This I will say.  I wish only to bring a true justice and peace to this land.   I have no clear understanding of what Petyr wants.  I swear he merely likes playing the game and causing havoc.”

“Why should I believe you now Varys?” Eddard asked.

“I am for once in my life being totally honest.  Petyr is dangerous.  Can you not feel it man?!”

He saw Eddard stopping and truly thinking.  Analyzing everything he had experienced in King’s Landing.

“I think I agree.”

They looked at each other.  Eddard sheathed his sword.  “I really did not want to kill you.  You did save me.  You have proved a valuable tool.”

“Good.  Good.”

Eddard stopped and looked at him like he had grown a third arm.  “Excuse me?”

“You are learning Eddard.  I am indeed a tool.  I am sharp and dangerous.  I try to achieve my goals but I will admit to a certain lack of scruples and foresight.”

“That is an understatement.”

“Sarcasm.  Good.  You are indeed learning Eddard.”

“I find this somewhat perplexing and maybe even galling Varys.  What are you getting at?”

“I think you are starting to understand Eddard Stark.  You have the mettle to be what this realm needs.  You have the character and morals that have not sat on the Iron Throne.  Ever.  All sought what was best for themselves and or their houses.  You are above that Eddard Stark.”

He harrumphed.

“You need to be king.  Westeros would be a much better world if you had walked up the steps of the Iron Throne and taken it during Robert’s Rebellion.  The gods know Jamie would be a piss poor king.  He doesn’t have the balls to tell Tywin to kiss off.  Gods that man’s sanctimonious blather about the honor of his House and all that matter is the name of Lannister.”

Eddard was walking around in Varys room.  He was not paying attention.  He was but was trying to act like he was not.

“I tell you Eddard Stark that you could be King.  You could be a great just king.  You just need to see the world and recognize threats and deal with them.  Show mercy.  After you have taken care of the danger.  Deal from a position of strength and not weakness.  Don’t tell everyone your godsdamned plans!”

“There is one thing that you keep forgetting Varys.”

Varys wracked his brain but could not think of it.  “And what would that be?”

“I don’t want to be King!  I do not crave that power.  I am just a simple man that is satisfied with my station.  I understand the north but not his confounded infernal South.”

“Exactly!”

Eddard looked at him slightly shaking his head his eyes filled with mild confusion.  “ _Exactly what_?!” Eddard half yelled at Varys. 

“You don’t want to be King.  You despise the mere idea of it.  That is what will make you a great King.  You will not be corrupted by power.  There is a reason for the saying Eddard Stark ‘power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

“I have finally lived long enough to find the exception. The one man with the honor and wisdom to not succumb to the allure and debilitating call of power.  This is why you must be King Eddard Stark.”

“And why would I, a simple man, not be corrupted Varys.”

“You just answered your own question Eddard.  Let us advise you.  You can control our baser instincts and we can enlighten you to those failings in others.”

Eddard squirmed.

“Consider my words.  Please Eddard.”

The man took a deep breath.

“I will.”

//////////

Eddard was going over the latest scrolls he had received back from the ravens that were in his service with his alliance with the Druids.  The birds were crisscrossing Westeros taking his missives to the Houses of Westeros.  He sighed.  He had much to consider.  He had decided that Westeros simply needed him as King. 

The continent was close to all-out war again. He leaned back in his chair.  He was discovering what it meant to be a sovereign of a whole realm.  He was having to way options and consider the personalities of the heads of those houses.  What could he bargain for without sacrificing too much and conversely what did the houses want that he could offer in return.  He was coming up with strategies in how to deal with each house.

He was constantly communicating with his son Robb.  The North was mobilizing at pace.  He had received mixed news from the Vale.  Many of the Houses of the Vale were aligning with Cat’s sister.  He had expected that but at least some were sundering from Lysa to side with him.  For that he was thankful.  They still had not found his wife which worried Eddard.  The world was a large place.  He had to hope she would be found soon before forces loyal to the Lannisters found her.    

He did not want Catelyn becoming a hostage of Tywin Lannister.  He wanted to be holding all the crevasse pieces. 

Of course all those schemes were for naught if he did not take the throne from Cersei.  Joffrey was the titular head of course but it was Cersei who was the puppet master pulling on the marionette strings.  The only problem for Cersei was the fact her son was a vile evil creature.  He would eventually turn on Cersei.  He would cut the strings binding him and he would then turn the knife on his own mother. 

He was the scorpion that would sting the Frog carrying him across the river.  They would both drown in the middle of the river.  It was his nature.  Some things were just a given.

Doran of course was proving himself true to his nature.  He had been waiting almost twenty years to avenge his niece’s death.  Eddard scowled.  Why hadn’t he taken the throne when Robert Baratheon had almost gloated at Elia’s death?  His fist slammed the table making his parchments rustle.  He punched the tabletop again this time with his knuckles.  He grimaced.

The pain reminded him of his failures.  His father had failed his own sister.  He knew the pain of failure.  He planned to change that. 

Two women forced to marry men they did not love.  Eddard grimaced again.  He had not known Catelyn Tully when they married.  Thank the gods they had come to love each other.  He sat and stared off into the distance his eyes not seeing.  He was like a man with rheumy eyes in the middle of the proverbial paradise.  Surrounded by sights of unimaginable beauty and unable to see them.

He must do better.  He was furious with Sansa betraying him.  He was trying to quaff his anger with his new insights.  He could no longer trust her.  He was not sure what to do with her at the present.

He turned his thoughts back to the Game of Thrones.  He grimaced again.  He rubbed his face.  Even thinking the thought made his stomach clench.  He had to figure out the balance.  He would have to take the reins of power and figure out how to take control of Westeros without losing too many pieces of his soul.

Eddard exploded out of his seat.  He pivoted around ducking slightly while pulling back.  He pulled out the dagger he kept hidden in his left hand sleeve.  His right whipped out his left hand gripped the back of his assailant’s neck his dagger now at the man’s throat.

“I am most impressed Eddard of House Stark.  No one else has every heard me approach.  You heard me the instant I came into the room did you not?  Yet you hid it.  I think you should return to Braavos with me and become a Faceless Man.”

Eddard Stark shivered.  He knew the man was only testing him.  He pulled his dagger back and put it back in its sheath.  He saw Jaqen H’ghar watch him put away his dagger.

“Most well-hidden and yet available at a moment’s notice.  Again I am impressed for such a man known for his peaceful nature.  Of course it nearly cost you your head.  I have heard the whispers.  The Faceless Men are well known for hearing the subtle lies and plots that waft through every seat of power.  Has the wolf decided to finally unsheathe his claws?”

Eddard sat back down.  He looked up at the man who looked down at him blandly. 

“I grow tired already with all this talk of letting my darker impulses run wild.  I refuse it.”

“I have no words of wisdom to impart I fear Eddard of House Stark.  You are the noble Direwolf surrounded by a pride of lions.  Red Lions.  You dealt mercy before.  Will you foolishly again?  I hope not.”

Eddard sat back.  “I have had this speech before.  Varys was most impactful with his insights and commentary.  All I could do was accept the truth of the words he spoke.”

The two men stared at each other.

“A wolf is bold and fearless.  They will attack any who threaten their pack.  Alas, so will lions.  How do you defend yourself when you are in such a dire positon Eddard of House Stark.”

“Why do I feel you will tell me?”

The Faceless Man’s face slightly twitched.  Eddard knew this was the man exhibiting humor. 

“You must be like your daughter Eddard of House Stark.  She ruthlessly killed the enemies of her House.  She did not kill out of hand but dispatched all who would threaten her and her house.  She then found the spirit and courage to save three men when she had every reason not to.  I wonder where she learned such nobility?” the faceless man asked the sitting man who would be king.

Eddard felt a soft smile cross his face.

“I have learned Faceless Man or should I say Jaqen H’ghar.  Which do you prefer?

“I do not care.  My true name long faded away like the mists that rise above the cut fields and fade away with the suns first light.”  The man hesitated.  “Though this I will admit.  Jaqen H’ghar is my favorite new name.  As is this face.  I have learned to my detriment to grow fond of such.  Syrio Forel is most observant.  Still I am just a man when you peel away the layers of myself.  I serve faithfully and yet I am still a man.”

“Why are you in Westeros?  You are a long way from home.”

“I serve my Order.”

“Answer my question Jaqen.  I am being open with you though it is not my nature.  I am not normally open outside of my family and closest confidents.  You helped save me.  I owe you.”

“I will serve you and your daughter.  And maybe another.”

Eddard sighed.  One thing he was discovering was that in the South and evidently in Esso everyone spoke out of both sides of their mouths.

“Again I would ask of you.  Why are you here in Westeros?”

“Many fear the rising Dragon.”

Eddard considered.  “You mean Daenerys Targaryen.  She is only a teenager.  Varys reports she is weak of spirit and of no account.  Merely a vessel to give her Khal an heir.”

“Perhaps.  Many prophecies say she will bring magic back into the world.  There are those in the Citadel that speak of her in fear and trepidation.  As you lay rotting in the dudgeons word came to me by my order.”

The man paused.  Eddard was leaning forward waiting for the answer.  Eddard knew the man was leading him on to make the next statement have more punch.

“She walked in fire and now has three dragons.  They are small of course but will grow.  She will come to claim her throne.”

Eddard sat back.  He instinctively believed it.  He would deal with her when the time came.  Aegon had conquered Westeros with his dragons.  He smiled evilly.  He had devised ways to defeat dragons.  He had made a study of it while a teenager.  He would enjoy pitting his tactics against whomever the girl would have lead her forces.

“I see on your face you think you will defeat her with your prowess on the battlefield.”

“How else do you conquer such a foe?”

“Love.”

Eddard considered.  “I fear I will have already married Robb off by then.”  Eddard sighed.  Bran had another destiny now.  Rikkon was simply too young.

“I said love Eddard Stark.  Would you do to your own children what was done to Lyanna Stark, Elia Martell, and Cersei Lannister?”

“What the hell are you trying to say man?”

“You will know when the time comes.  Trust your instincts.”

“You are not going to tell me anything more are you?”

“No.”

Eddard sighed.  He had called the man to see him for a reason.

“You are giving me a headache Jaqen H’ghar.  The reason I have called you hear Faceless Man is to release you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I free you of your debts.” 

“But—But I have pledged myself.”

“I will not have even the hint of enslavement in service to me.  I free you.  My daughter used chancery to keep you in our service.  I cannot countenance that.”

The Faceless Man stared at him.  “You are truly what I have heard.  I accept.  But I will follow the edicts of my own heart and conscious.”

With that the man turned and left.

Eddard shook his head.  A most strange man.  He turned his mind back to his immediate concerns.  He studied the maps he had laid out on his table and the scrolls he had received back from the High Houses.

He knew Doran would vacillate.  He had communicated with Oberyn.  He had promised the man what he most sought after.  The man had answered that if he, Eddard, delivered his promise he would be eternally grateful.  He now would write another scroll to Oberyn.  Eddard would demand that there would be no marriage of any Dorne prince to this Targaryen Princess.  To get his desire Oberyn would have to agree to that.  Oberyn could deal with Doran if vengeance was finally handed to their House.

Eddard did not worry about Highgarden.  He knew Olenna was angling to marry a scion of Highgarden to whomever won the Iron Throne.  He knew who he would dangle in front of her.  She would bite.  He merely had to make sure the other lure was removed from the lake.

He was not sure where Renly had fled on the night of his downfall.  Eddard could guess though.  He had gone to Highgarden.  He had gone to his lover Loras.  He strongly suspected that the cagy old fox was fully aware of her grandson’s proclivities.  That she was willing to look the other way.  They would marry false wives for show and heirs but at night Eddard knew whose bed they would share.

He would have to remove that threat.

He had a plan for Renly and Stannis.  Their natures would work against them.

Tywin he would neutralize by taking his daughter and grandchildren as hostages.  All in Westeros had read Eddard’s pronouncement on the incest between Cersei and Jamie.  They would deny of course.  If Eddard lost in his bid to win the throne then they would slowly tamp down the truth till it was forgotten like the last heard howl of a wolf at night to never be heard again.  Merely a memory that fades like moonshine before a hazy cover of cloud that rolls in smothering the pale light of that fragile celestial body.

Truth was like that.  Fragile and easily broken.

Cat’s sister was a nuisance that he would handle when the time came.

Suddenly, Kiren broke into the room.  She had a slightly fearful look on her face.

“A large force of Lannisters has formed and are riding hard down the King’s Road.”

///////////

Eddard had called a meeting of his war council.  He squint smirked.  Not that it was much.  He then went contemplative.  It did have advantages.  He did not have to worry about the different regiments and coordinating their movements and making sure all followed his commands.

This battle would be totally under his command and supervision.  Eddard knew even with his small force that once the battle was joined that confusion would rule paramount.  Each person fighting their individual battles to achieve their objective which many times was sheer survival from one moment to the next moment.  Each heartbeat an existential crises of survival. 

Eddard knew this moment would be occurring.  In some ways he was pleasantly surprised it had taken so long for the Lannisters to send a strong reinforcement troop to King’s Landing.

He knew that he had to thank Edmure and the beginnings of the forces from the Vale showing their forces on the battlefield.  The Riverlands threatening the eastern marge of Westerlands.  Tywin had to honor that threat.  It was dividing his thoughts and forcing him to divert forces to confront that threat. 

Then Edmure and now the Vale were harassing his forces moving down the Gold Road to King’s Landing.  Each attack was forcing the forces of the Lannister’s to slow their advance.  First to repulse the current attack and then to be prepared to fight any future attack.

The Druids and some of the longbow from the Vale were ambushing the Lannisters whenever the lay of the land allowed them to attack from cover and then slip away unseen.  Like the hidden viper striking and then disappearing into the undergrowth.

The forces of Tywin was slowed.  He knew the man wanted to get to King’s Landing to put down the Insurrection of Eddard Stark.  He needed to get to King’s Landing and put down the errant Direwolf.  Kill his foe and then staunch the poison of Eddard’s scrolls across Westeros declaring the incestuous union of his two eldest and their incestuous spawn.

He paused in his thinking.  He would have to make sure he was ready for that when the time came.

Tywin needed to kill Eddard Stark.  There would be no banishment for this.  He would be executed if he survived for treason against the crown.  Tywin would have to work hard to expunge the vile lies that Eddard had inscribed into the very granite blocks of King’s Landing.  Adultery.  Betrayal.  Incest.  Murder. 

Eddard had never liked the man.  The man was simply obsessed with the name of “Lannister”.  All had to bow before that alter.  No wonder Cersei and Jamie were insufferable.  They were narcissistic self lov—“

Eddard stopped his diatribe.  Did not the Targaryen’s allow marriage of brother to sister?  They even allowed multiple partners.  Multiple brothers and sisters.  He tried to even contemplate him and Lyanna.  His head spun.  Then he thought of Brandon or Benjin added to the mix.  His head threatened to explode.

Still.  If it was consensual …

He would contemplate that on a later day.

The door opened to his quarters.  It was time to plan for battle.

He had known this day would come.  He had had the Druids heavily scout the terrain one and half days out from King’s Landing.  He had found several places suitable to his needs.  Eddard had already prepositioned what he needed for the ambush in several small crofts along the King’s Road.  The many small living establishments that lined the major roads close to major cities.  Little communities growing food for the cities and having artisans that helped produce the goods that the city dwellers clamored for.

He would use the items stored in the barns of the little crofts.  He had had the Druids actively scope out the land in the distances he had given them.  They had provided three possible sites.  A week ago he had ridden out soon after dark from a stable near the Gate of the Gods gate.  He had ridden his mount hard along with the Druids Kiren and Dwan Risley.  They had brought three spare horses each.  They had four scouts ahead with two runners in case they met troops of the Lannisters.  None had been encountered. 

They had arrived three hours past midnight to the first of the ambush sites.  He had inspected the site for what he needed to make his ambush successful.   They then rode to the next one that was a half hour down the King’s Road.  The last one had been three miles further up the King’s Road.

Eddard had found the first site visited to be the best one.  He then had went out into the fields and had camped underneath the boughs of a large corpse of trees.  Eddard had laid out his blankets as the stars started to fade along with his Druid brethren.  He was coming to feel a real affirmation to these secretive men and women.  They were pure in their service to the land itself.  He felt great sadness knowing that his family had been instrumental in their near extinction.

He felt humbled to be given the opportunity to right the scales of justice.  He was determined to do all that he could to right past wrongs.

He had looked up at the stars fading away between the leaves of the trees.  The twinkling stars reminding him just how small he was in the grand schemes of things.  The stars so ethereal and fragile looking.  Much like the life of a man.  He had almost died.  If not saved by his daughter his body would have already been reduced to bones on the road back to the crypts of Winterfell.  He had enjoyed his time in the field after so long cooped up in the city.  He had returned the next night.

He now rose up from the table to meet his small band of fellow warriors.  He greeted the men and women who would be fighting alongside of him.

Javer Goodbrook and Styve Grandison entered first.  He noticed as usual that Javer had his habitual dour look.  Going by his look they were all heading to the gallows.  Matamion and Jaehaegar Velnalys also part of Rhaegar’s honor guard came in after.  Two more of the forces loyal to the Targaryen’s followed in. 

Eddard could not help but wonder what would occur if Daenerys Targaryen was indeed alive and somehow survived and returned to Westeros to reclaim the throne taken from her father.

Next came Dwan Risley and Kiren of the Druids.  They had been among the first to arrive.  Four more Druids followed them in.  They were two men and two women. 

Eddard could not help but notice that the Druids made no distinction as to male or female when it came to leadership.  Kiren was now the lead of the Druids with Merrel not yet returned.  The ravens had reported he would be back this night.  Eddard was happy to hear that.  Any additional archer would be needed.

Last to come in was Arya and her sword teacher Syrio Forel.  He looked at this daughter who avoided his eyes.  He was sure he knew why.  Syrio looked him steadily in the eyes.  Eddard sighed.  He knew that Syrio would side with daughter.  Why shouldn’t he?  Hadn’t she proven herself?

Eddard stood up and dipped his head to the group around him.

“I thank you all for coming.  As you have reported to me Kiren, a force of five hundred Lannister horse have broken from the train of the Lannisters to ride light and fast to come to King’s Landing.  They are still two days out.  We can meet them away from King’s Landing.”

Eddard pointed to the map that showed the area around King’s Landing.  “As you know I have scouted out an area that we can ambush this force.  It will be dangerous and will require us to get in close and fight the enemy from within two hundreds and a select number will have to be in on the enemy when we spring the ambush.”

“This will allow us to attack outside of the line of sight of King’s Landing.  They will not know of our ambush as it occurs.  There will be no reinforcements to come against our rear.”

Eddard Stark then explained his attack plan.  He had thought it out.  He was sure it would be effective and would decimate the Lannister force coming down the road.  He finished his laying out of forces and the plan of attack.

He looked at Kiren.  He knew the answer and that she would be pissed but he had to express his thoughts.

“I know the Lannisters.  They are guilty of war crimes in any campaign that they have led.  The rape the women, killing men of fighting age no matter their physical health.  They kill livestock they cannot take and burn all to the ground in their campaigns.”

“Kiren” I ask that you have two of your female Druids lead the ruse.  I know I should not ask th—“

Kiren barked at Eddard “I am insulted that you even make this distinction.  In our society women and men are equal.  Of course we accept the risk.  Do not make such an assumption again.”

Eddard felt chastised.  He looked at the fierce look on Kiren’s face.  Eddard saw that the male Druids fully supported Kiren.  He dipped his head.

“I apologize.  I will not make this mistake again.”

Kiren smiled.  “Apology accepted.  Just don’t do it again.”  She winked at Eddard.

Eddard could not help it.  He flushed mightily in embarrassment.

The meeting soon ended.  All filed out.  All except his daughter and Syrio Forel.

“I’m going father!” Arya barked at her father.

Eddard bit his tongue.  He did not like her defiant tone in front of Syrio.  The look on her face was defiant and full of righteous anger.

“Arya.  You are only fourteen.”

“That does not matter father.  I have proven myself in combat.  I have killed to save you.  I have proven that I belong in any fight.  Do not deny me my right!”

“Right?” Eddard asked.  He knew her daughter had merit in her arguments.  He would be dead he was sure if not for her bravery and skill in fighting.  He just could not conceive of sending his daughter into battle.  For himself to be putting her in danger.

“Yes!  I have earned the right to be in any fight against the Lannisters.  I fought in many battles.  I have proven myself.”

“Arya.  You are my daughter—“

“Stop!  I will not hear you use my sex as an excuse to deny me my right to fight.  You would not be refusing Robb if he had proven himself in combat if he was fourteen.  His prowess is the sword.  I am still a novice I know but my skill is the bow.  My skills match the Druids.  They have told me this.  You need every bow you can get father. You know it.  I am needed.  I am going to the fight.”

Eddard had been about to argue but he liked to consider himself a fair man.  Arya’s point of Robb had hit home.  She was right.  At fourteen Robb would have been so young and green but if he had proven himself as Arya had he would have let him come on this attack.  He would have proven himself capable.

At fourteen he would have been a hindrance on the battlefield with a sword.  He would be a boy fighting men.  But if he had been a master of a bow?  If it got to the point the archers were swarmed by mounted horse with knights and their swords then his battle plan would have been an unmitigated disaster. 

His plan was well thought out and would succeed.  He knew it.  If the old gods did not shit down his neck then he would obliterate the fighting force approaching.  It was almost a given.

Eddard thought all these thoughts in a flash.  He stared at his daughter who met his gaze unflinching.  He turned to look at Syrio Forel.  He had been watching all this with a neutral expression.

“I assume you concur with my daughter Water Dancer?”

“Your daughter is as fierce as the Direwolf of your standard.  She is walking death to her enemies.  Fear cuts deeper than swords.  She is not unwise but fear does not enter her heart in combat.  She is our equal in that manner.”

“So I should put my daughter into danger?”

“What does it matter if she is your daughter?  Can she fight?  Can she help us achieve our goals and desires?  I fully support her.  I will not clip her wings just when she is starting to fledge.  An eagle needs to spread its wings and beat them hard.  Only through risk can an eagle ever leave its nest Eddard.”

“You have raised an eagle or a direwolf if you prefer.  You have done more than that.  You have done the most rare of things.  You have raised a Water Dancer.  Let her dance Eddard.”

Eddard looked at Syrio and then Arya.

“Well then.  I think I should let you dance Arya.”

Eddard could not help but smile.  Arya was indeed dancing jumping around the room punching the air and hugging Syrio swirling him around in an awkward waltz. 

Most strange Eddard thought to himself smiling still.  How could two Water Dancers dance so horribly?


	17. Bearding the Lion

Insurrection

Bearding the Lion

 

Byrron Lannister was fuming as his force of light cavalry moved down the King’s Road.  He was enraged by the constant guerilla warfare that his forces had been enduring since they had marched out of the Westerlands.  His enemies were cowardly curs that refused to meet his forces on the field of battle. 

They would not face him.  Instead they attacked from distance and faded away into the environment.  He was in the leading van of the forces of House Lannister.  Tywin was organizing an army to move to King’s Landing and support the new king Joffrey Baratheon.  Eddard Stark had tried to usurp and overthrow the new king and had been captured.

When they had first started their march, Byrron had been sure that would be the end of events.  He was a colonel in the army of the Lannisters.  He was a cousin three times removed from the direct family line of Lannisters.  To serve his family was a badge of honor.  To serve his family and make the Westerlands ever greater gave the man a since of pride.  He hoped that with the crown the Lannisters would finally be able to bring Highgarden down off their high self-important seat.

Then more ravens had arrived.  Evidently a force had risen to oppose Joffrey.  They were constantly attacking the Lannisters in King’s Landing.  They were able to kill almost with seeming impunity.  The asymmetrical warfare was killing the forces of the crown without even one of the enemy being killed.  It was totally frustrating to Tywin Lannister.  Byrron felt that same frustration.  He longed to reach King’s Landing and help put down this Insurrection.

He had sat at the war table in Casterly Rock with Tywin raging.  He demanded to know how these ‘miscreants’ were able to stay one step ahead of them.

There had been no answers.  It was decided that Byrron would lead a vanguard of mounted forces with a minimal train to support the troop as they rode to the east.  Tywin was staying behind to make sure the conscripts were whipped into shape.  It would take six more weeks to get an army ready to march to King’s Landing.

It was supposed to be easy.  He had ridden his forces onto the Gold Road and at first he had moved at speed away from Lannisport.  In the lowlands and the piedmont all had been well.  Then the Gold Road rose up to the mountains of Western Westeros.  The first range were the Brokenback Mountains.  Then they moved into the Cascade Mountains.

Here the road followed natural valleys through the ranges.  The road was narrow and had many facing cliffs and overhangs.  The road in place had been meticulously carved into the sides of the mountains.  Only space for small wagons to pass in each direction.  There were carve outs at the switchbacks to allow large wagons to pull off to allow traffic to pass.   There were guard gates at these narrow points that controlled the traffic on the Gold Road.  It was a natural tax collection point but also a means to control the traffic so there were not snares on the road.

Byrron had never thought much of it before.  It was merely the way the road wove through the mountains.  The Gold Road had always been thus.  He had been born in Bakerfield between Sarsfield and Hornvale.  He was used to the mountains.  The mountains of the Westerlands had always been at peace. The people were not restive to the rule of his House.  Tywin Lannister had been open handed with his largess.  He had made sure that projects were done in each house.  The people may bitch but that was natural.  All complained of taxes and resources being spent on another House.

All the while accepting every gold dragon and silver stag sent their way.

This was not what Byrron found on the Gold Road on this travel.  It had started when they first rose up into the clouds of the Brokenback Mountains.  They had left behind Oak Hill the last small city leading up into the high mountain passes.  It was early in the next morning.  The Gold Road here clung to the side of the mountain.  There was a high mountain across from the road about three hundred yards across a ravine.  The facing mountain rose up a high towering height over the road.  The mountain was lined with ancient pines that reached for the sky.

Suddenly, arrows came whistling down from a great height above the King’s Road. The men were generally passing down the road in single file with wagons in teams of four or five back to back with troops between riding or walking their horses.

Men were thrown off their horses.  Horses rose up with arrows buried deep in their bodies.  The arrows kept flying down.  Confusion soon ran riot along the troop train.  Byrron looked around wildly at the facing mountain but never saw the archers.  The deep ravine did not allow him to send out riders to engage in a counterattack.  They were helpless but to suffer the storm of arrows without being to counterstroke as doctrine dictated.  Always charge an ambush.

His own archers strung their bows and fired wildly back but their arrows fell short.  The men hide behind the wagons and those in the train pulled their shields off their saddle horns or flanks of their horses.  The men now able to shelter the arrows that would fire from seemingly nowhere.  Finally, after twenty minutes the attack ceased.

He examined the arrows.  They were definitely long bow.  The mountains were supposedly inaccessible.  Only thin animal trails were in these high mountains with their high angled slopes.  To walk those paths were highly dangerous and nearly impossible with a heavily armored man.

That had been the first attack.  He had suffered seventeen dead and twenty-one injured.  He lost over thirty horses and many wounded and unable to support their riders.  He was furious.  This slowed his advance to a crawl.  He sent out scouts on the animal trails on the mountain that the King’s Road traveled around.  They were sent to lookout for possible ambush sites. 

That had been the only large scale attack.  From that point it had only been hit and run guerrilla warfare tactics.  The deaths occurred singly or in small numbers.  An arrow would come flying in from almost any angle.  A man would drop dead.  The men would look around wildly.  The archer was never found.

Again and again this happened.

Seven times large boulders were sent down the mountain side crashing into a wagon shattering it.  The driver killed.  Several times the horses also killed or maimed and had to be put down.   

Finally, they reached Deep Den.  Byrron felt like he had had a milestone removed from his neck.  His neck ached from constantly looking up for dangers that he nor any other could ever see.

They had regrouped in Deep Den.  Those men too wounded to continue were left while replacement horses were appropriated.  The men felt refreshed after three days and again hit the King’s Road.  They had lost ten days with their march slowed by the constant harassing attacks.

Now they were able again to make speed.  The danger past.  Or so he had thought.

While out of the mountains they were still in rolling piedmont and large stands of trees that appeared as small islands on the backs of the rolling hills.

Again the attacks started three days out of Deep Den.  The attacks were sudden.  An arrow or small flight of arrows would come flying into the line of his troops.  A man or maybe two would be hammered off their horse.  Horses would be feathered.  The injured horses usually unable to further carry its rider.

The men and Byrron were seething at the constant snipping by an enemy they could never see.  The high rolling hills and trees hiding their enemies.  His men were raging at the loss of comrades and friends.  The attacks were fewer.  The enemy only attacked when they had the advantage and could disappear into the wilderness.  It was like trying to fight a ghost that walked on the marge of ones senses.  Always felt but never truly seen.

Then they had reached the Blackwater Rush.  They had rode to the Rippleshorn Ford.  Byrron had sent out scouts and they had reported all was safe.  He started to send his men across and slowly guiding the wagons across the shallow water.  The rains had been kind and the current was not fast.

He had sent across a strong company and the first wagons had gone halfway across the ford.  This was not a land he knew.  Nor really his scouts.  The men of House Tully knew the land.  They had been able to avoid his scouts.  They fell on the company he had sent across with a force five times their numbers.  The battle had been pitched.  He charged on his force his knights following.

Arrows pierced horses making them scream in pain and rear.  Knights were thrown off their horses.  The wagon masters were feathered.  Knights charged into his company and slaughtered his men. 

His horse was feathered twice and he went into the river.  He staggered up to his feet in water to his waist.  The next fifteen minutes were pure confusion and panic.  Then the Tully men disappeared.  They had killed twelve Tully men.  They killed the cowards that had been wounded and not able to flee.  The Lannisters had lost fifty-five men and twenty too injured to continue.

He moved on.  The anger burning in Byrron’s breast only grew.  They marched on.  They had no recourse.  He thought that maybe the guerilla warfare had been left behind.  Two days later the first attack of a new round of attacks occurred.  A man went down with an arrow in his throat. Byron looked out over the rolling low hills and grasslands.  He saw nothing.  How could these curs be so invisible!

They had moved on three more days with two more attacks.  Two men killed and one severely injured.  That was when he decided to take five hundred men and ride in only chainmail.  He would use speed to avoid these attacks.  They were almost in the Crownlands and lands loyal to the new king.

It had seemed to work.  They rode fast and being back in loyal lands finally made him feel safe.  Then five days out from King’s Landing they had been struck again.  That was when his childhood friend Samurel Bettley had been killed with an arrow into his upper chest.  The arrow had penetrated his heart.

His friend lay in his arms gasping for breath the fear of death written all over his face.  He had seen the life go out of his childhood friend’s face.  His life fading away like the field falling into dark as a thick cloud slide across the sun making the land dark and cool.  His friend’s grip on his hand went slack.  He was gone.

Byrron had buried his friend with his own hands.  He felt rage at these unseen foes.  He longed for revenge.  He needed to get to King’s Landing to help find these traitors and butcher them.  He would have his revenge!

They were ambushed the next day but the last three days they had been free of the accursed attacks. 

They were a day and a half from King’s Landing in the late afternoon.  Byrron saw up ahead on the King’s Road three large wagons filled with produce heading towards King’s Landing to sell.  The troop slowed down.  The first wagon had broken an axle and was leaned over.  The farmers were struggling to prop it up to replace the damaged wheel.  It was beyond them.

He saw that the small group had two young women.  He felt his anger flare.  This men had been attacked relentlessly and not been able to strike back.  He felt his baser emotions rising to war with his military training.

He moved his troop forward.  He knew they were not going to help these farmers.  He saw that the women were comely.  He looked at this sergeants and saw the same repressed battle lust in their eyes.  He was debating within himself as his troop stopped.  The tension in the troop was palpable. 

//////////

Eddard was watching the tableau unfolding before him.  He had chosen this site because it had a low wash gulley on this side of the King’s Road.  The Gulley twelve feet deep.  He had fifteen horse and knights and warriors who were accomplished horseback fighters.  They had cut out scallops to allow for spying on the Road into the side of the gulley.

Eddard was in one of them.  He saw the agitation in the troop.  The Druids sending back information with their Ravens giving details of each ambush and their effect on the Lannister column.  The men were milling around. He knew that the sight of two comely women would put the lust in the men.  They had been on the road for well over a month being ambushed constantly.  They would be fueled for revenge.  He had to use iron will to make sure that these baser instincts were controlled in his own men. 

He was not sure the commander would lose control or even join in but the blockade had done what he needed.  The troop had stilled its momentum.  The moment to strike had arrived.  They were only fifty yards from the King’s Road.  They had cut a channel out of the gulley for the horses to ride up out of the gulley.

On the other side of the King’s Road was a shallow basin one hundred and fifty yards from the King’s Road.  Well within the range of the longbows of the Druids.  He had twenty-five of his archers on that side and sixteen on this side.  He had a mounted troop on that side of the road to support the archers if necessary.

He was leaving five men on horse behind each group to counterattack any rush at the archers.  The numbers were still much against them.  The horses were a force multiplier.  He got down off his lookout point and jumped on his horse.  A Druid handed him his lance.  He and the fifteen knights had their lances in hand now. 

Eddard nodded up at Klissa.  It was time to spring the ambush.

//////////

Arya was up on the edge of the gulley.  She was standing with a screen in front of her position.  The camouflage carefully lain to make the archers invisible as they studied the Lannister force.  She saw her father look at Klissa.  The large barn owl on her shoulder hopped off and onto a large scrub branch.  It was time.  Her father began to move his force to the ramp they had dug to let them leave the gulley.

She made eye contact with her father.  Syrio was a little ways down the gully looking out at the enemy.  They both turned to look at Eddard as he passed below them.  The knights had a close grip on their reigns pulling the bite in the horses’ mouths to keep any neighs or bugles muzzled for the moment.  Eddard stopped.  He looked up at Arya.  He had a serious look on his face as he balanced his lance.  Then a small smile crossed his face.  He tilted his head to his daughter. 

Softly he spoke “Death to our enemies.  Fight well my daughter.”

Arya felt herself choke up for a moment.  He was treating her like a true warrior.

Eddard looked at Syrio.  They locked eyes.  Syrio understood.  He was being charged with protecting Arya as much as the coming battle would allow.  Syrio nodded his head. 

Eddard moved his force down the gulley to the cutout to charge up onto the plain and attack.

Arya looked up and saw the ravens flying up several hundred feet above them circling flying silently.  She knew the Druids were using them to coordinate their efforts on each side of the King’s Road.  Arya watched the large birds as they flew circles keeping quiet.  The Lannisters if they noticed them would ignore them not knowing their importance.  If she had not known to look up she would never have noticed them.  Klissa nodded her head and the scrub screens were slowly pulled down.  As one the Druids and Arya reached back to the quiver on their back and pulled out an arrow and notched it.  The human eye was designed to notice movement thus the slow movements.  Everyone stood up slowly with bows pulled back.  They each had four quivers filled with thirty arrows each.  They would firing fast and furious.  There was more quivers filled with arrows in the bottom of the gulley.

Klissa raised her arm and then slashed it down.  There was the mighty sound of fifteen longbows and one Northern bow being unleased.  The mighty vibrations of the strong bowstrings filled the gulley.  Their arrows released to find their mark Arya fervently hoped.  She knew the Druids on the other side had fired their own arrows into the other side of the Lannister troop.  Arya was satisfied when the heard the screams of horses and the shouts of men.

Arya saw the streaks of the second flight of arrows flinging into the Lannisters.  She saw men thrown off horses and horses bucking and some folding with arrows in their bodies.  Across the formation she saw confusion taken hold as the other force of Druids fired their arrows into the bunched Lannisters.

She reached back and pulled out arrows and fitted them to her bowstring and pulled the string back in a steady motion and let loose.  She heard her father riding with his fellow knights out of the gulley.  The young wolf saw their arrows whistling into the Lannister ranks.  Arrows impacting more horses and men.  Men fell off their mounts while their mounts started to scream and buck wildly with arrows penetrating their bodies filling the horses with pain and rage.

/////////

Eddard had his lance held up at a forty-five degree angle as he and his fellow knights rode up out of the gulley.  He would not normally ride into a fight with archers firing into the enemy but he had come to fully appreciate the skills of these Druids.  He watched arrows fly straight and true into Lannister’s all up and down the column.  He noticed the white fletching of his daughter and felt a thrum of pride at his daughter’s prowess.  He watched a Lannister officer grip his neck suddenly with a white fletched arrow buried deep in his throat.

The skill he saw in his daughter and the Druids was humbling and also inspiring.  They were the equal of knights with their skills in the bow.  He rapidly formed up with his fifteen knights.  He looked at Jaehaegar Velnalys to his right and at Javer Goodbrook on his left.  They nodded at each other.  A fierce smile was on their faces.  Eddard was sure it was mirrored on his own face.  It was the face of men primed for combat.  He shouted and lifted his lance.  His men shouted in return.

The knights kicked their horses.  They were in their full armor that they had either smuggled into King’s Landing or purchased from the cheaper sections of the Street of Steel.  They quickly had their horses up at full charge gallop.  The Lannisters were thrown into confusion with the hail of arrows slamming into their numbers from two sides.  Eddard started when several arrows whistled just over his left shoulder by his ear to streak into the Lannister force.

The Lannister’s chainmail was deflecting some of the arrows and many were pulling their shield from off their backs or on their horses flanks.  They had their shields up now and some were using their fallen horses as shields lying beside them getting their sense of the battle.  Others were running to wagons to find shelter.  Many arrows found their mark but now the wild milling and rising dust was causing many arrows to whistle through the ranks of the Lannisters finding no target to bury themselves in.

Eddard was not alarmed. That was the nature of arrows in combat.  The storm of arrows was keeping the heads of the Lannister’s down in self-preservation.  It gave the new King the cover he needed.

Eddard saw the barrel tops suddenly flung off on the barrels in the beds of the wagons.  The tarps ripped back that were supposedly covering vegetable produce.  The hidden archers rising up to fire off at the roiling horde of Lannisters.  Horses were rearing screaming.  Men were fighting their horses and others had been thrown off and milling around on the ground.  The wagons had two sword fighters each for close defense.

The two Druid women had rolled underneath the wagons and pulled their longbows free they had strapped to the underside of the wagon beds along with their quivers.  They quickly strung their bows and put their quivers on their backs.  They now rose up armed and let loose their arrows firing at their enemies from point blank range.  Some of the Lannister mounted horse were charging the wagons but the Druids dodged the strokes and the sword fighters met the initial charge hacking at knights and their horses.

With a sharp kick to his horse’s ribs Eddard had gotten his horse up to a full gallop.  Eddard had his lance down now with the long handle braced against his ribs.  He aimed at his chosen target.  The wall of Lance Men were up to full speed.  Some of the Lannister’s saw them coming.  Horses pulled out of the way.  Eddard had a brief moment to reflect that his attack was going exactly as planned.  He wondered if he would survive it.  Luck as well as skill played a major part of every battle.

The element of surprise was still totally on their side.  The charge slammed into the flank of the Lannisters.  His lance plunged into a man’s body in his ribs and slammed clean through his body.  Eddard’s body slammed into the horse of the now dead man.  Eddard had released the handle of the lance and pulled his horse back.  His sword was out in his hand.    

As Eddard prepared to charge into his foes he watched the devastating affect of his fellow Lance men.  Their long poles impaling riders and ripping men off horses with jutting poles squiring the men.  Their momentum carrying them into the Lannister column folding it in at the point of impact of the wedge of attacking Lance men.  His fellow warriors dropped their lances reaching for swords and battleaxes. 

The moment was broken with Eddard sensing a Lannister man coming at him.  With sword raised Eddard turned to meet the attack.  He slashed furiously at any man in red he saw.  He slashed a man off his horse with a cut to his neck nearly severing his head.  His next foe had his sword ready and parried the killing strokes of Eddard’s sword as the men circled each other.  The man slashed at Eddard but his armor rebounded the man’s sword stroke up and away. 

The plate armor of the forces of the new King gave them a huge advantage as their swords had a much time finding ways to penetrate the chainmail of the Lannisters.  Their need to ride fast had left them vulnerable to his kind of attack.

His foes could not organize against Eddard as arrows were flying fast and furious constantly roiling the Lannisters.  Many arrows flew through the milling throng not finding a target.  Many missed but many also found their targets.  Arrows would feather horses sending them rearing or bucking wildly.  Their men fighting to stay a horse.  Eddard saw arrows hit the Lannister men.  Some fell down dead or gravely wounded.  The chainmail stopped many arrows from penetrating deeply though.  The men fighting on.  Eddard rammed his sword through the ribs of the man he was fighting.  He wrenched his sword free when a horse slammed into his.

He struggled to keep himself upright and his horse on his feet.  He did not want to have another horse fall on him!  One of his fellow knights took on the man.  They slashed furiously at each other.  Suddenly, the Lannister had a longbow arrow penetrate his chainmail and sink into his shoulder.  The man yelled in pain and then screamed as a sword bit into his upper body with broken ribs and chainmail jammed into his body cavity.  He saw an arrow glance off a man’s armor.  Another man had his shield on his arm keeping it facing out.

Men were milling around the wagons pressing.  From this range the Druids did not miss and their arrows nearly shot out the other side of their targets.  They were not able to fire rapidly spending much time ducking and rolling to avoid sword strokes.  Eddard saw a druid go down in the second wagon. 

Eddard roared and charged forward. He hacked down the man who had decapitated the Druid.  He saw another druid hacked down.  Her body folding down with a slash to her ribs.  Eddard’s battle sense warmed him.  He was suddenly whirling around to defend himself from two attackers.  He saw one of his knights go down.  More of his men were fighting furiously just to survive.  They were killing their enemies at a furious rate but numbers were not in their favor though that was changing rapidly.

He saw a force of twenty Lannister’s charging the gulley that he had ridden out of.  He felt his heart clutch knowing that Arya was in that gulley.  He suppressed his fear and blocked a sword stroke and fought with Styve Grandison and Gabrin Myatt they were helping to keep the Lannister’s from swarming the wagons.  Eddard Stark’s daughter was a warrior true.

//////////

Arya saw the charge of mounted Lannister’s charging towards at them.  She felt her eyes go large as she changed her aim point and started firing at the charging force of attacking horse.  She felt adrenaline rush though her bloodstream.  She fired steadily at the charging horses.  She hit a horse in its forward whither.  It kept on charging.  Horses were taking farrows but they kept charging.  A hoarse took an arrow to the eye and collapsed throwing its rider.

She saw one and then three men get feathered.  Two fell off mortally wounded but the other men kept on charging.  The lead horses reached the hidden trench that had been dug into the ground and hidden with camouflage netting.  Her father and his men had made sure to ride wide of the trench.  The lead horses tumbled into the ditch breaking their legs and throwing their riders.  Arrows immediately chasing the men as they staggered behind their fallen horses or jumped in the trench.

Eight mounted men reached the edge of the gulley.  They slashed at the Druids still on the lip.  One Druid was cut deed on her upper arm.  She jumped down into the gulley.  The five guarding knights slashed with swords at the Lannister’s at the edge of the gulley.  The Lannister’s saw they could not jump their horses down without major chance of breaking their mount’s legs.  The men ducked back constantly as arrows were shot up at them.  A Lannister fell down dead with an arrow in the throat. 

The Lannisters saw the ramp leading down into the gulley and broke for it. Their guard knights rushed to meet them.  More Lannister men were riding out to join their brothers.  The men reached the ramp.  Out of scrub brush on the side Syrio was suddenly out and his rapier cut two horses’ ligaments sending the horses straight down crippled.  He quickly dispatched the two fallen riders with thrusts through their throats. 

Without archers to slow and kill the Lannisters more were approaching their positions.  Their guards met the initial charge of the Lannisters trying to get into the gulley.  The Druids had repositioned themselves so they could fire up at the Lannister’s trying to hack their way through their guard force.  Some of the Druids had taken up their positions back on the lip of gulley firing at targets of opportunity. 

Arya saw one of their guard go down defending them.  She felt righteous anger which was slightly tamped when her arrow and another Druid arrow killed the man with an arrow to the eye and throat.  She was sweating like a pig and covered with clotted dust.  She saw a Lannister man break through their guard and was immediately feathered.  He fell off his horse dead.  Two more of their forces were cut down though by the Lannister’s.

Syrio was doing his water dance avoiding sword swipes and piercing men in their knees and calves with his razor point rapier as they attempted to cut him down from on top of their horses.  He cut horses ligaments.  He was wounding and maiming.  When he was able to get his foe down to his level he then delivered a killing stroke.   

Two more Lannisters broke through the defense.  They had hacked down another of their guard.  He was only wounded and the Druids were using their arrows to make the Lannisters wheel their horses away.  Horses were feathered. The accumulating arrows weakening the steeds.  Some falling immediately with eye and throat shots.

Two horses burst through and charged Arya.  Arya had time to let loose an arrow that penetrated the leading man’s eye instantly killing him.

The other man charged Arya trying to run her down.  She did not have time to pull another arrow from her quiver.  She dove to the side her body slamming into the gulley dirt wall.  The horse’s hooves kicking up dirt in her face and body. The wind had been knocked out of her body.  The man was determined to kill her. 

The man spun his horse around and had it half rise up on its hind legs.  He was going to slam the horse’s hooves into her head shattering it.  She gaped and prepared to try and roll away but saw she did not have time.  She dropped her bow and put her arms over her head to try and protect herself.

Arya did not see two arrows hit the horse making it jerk and twirl.  She also did not see Syrio leaping through the air like a ballet dancer in a play from Pentos.  His sword came down piercing the back of the man’s neck severing his spine.  The rapier ripped from his grip.  The now leaderless horse went tearing off down the gulley kicking wildly bucking the dead man off his back.  Syrio landed lightly on his feet and ran to the fallen man to retrieve his rapier from the corpse he had just rendered.

The other man who had gotten though the guard had hacked a druid wounding his leg.  He then gutted another Druid disemboweling him.  He was then hit with an arrow in his side.  His chainmail blunting most of the force.  It did make him lean over in shock.  He now hacked at two Druids attacking him with their long daggers.  The Druids circling out of the range of his sword strokes.  The men constantly circling darting in for fast strokes.

With the Lannister focusing on them he did not Syrio run and leap up onto the horses back nor the sword swipe that opened up the side of this neck with blood gushing out severed arteries.  Syrio jumped back down and landed lightly.

He moved over to help Arya up.  He smiled down at her.  “Let us keep killing this curs.  Lions my ass!”

Arya looked around.  The fight had gone out of the Lannister men.  The gulley was empty.  The Druids rushing back to the gulley edge to resume firing at their foes.

Arya felt renewed.  She got on the edge.  She saw that the Lannisters were now running off in small groups.  The men running from the battle that had gone badly for them.  She and Druids chasing them off with arrows whistling after them.

//////////

Eddard was slashing wildly.  He hacked a man down attacking from the left.  He was not able to fully meet the attack that suddenly came from the right.  He fell back enough to lessen the blow of a sword that numbed his left arm.  He retreated so he could use a wagon to protect that side.  From this vantage point he saw the other side of the road now.  He saw the five mounted guards of the archers on the opposite side from Arya charging into the fray.  They had their swords out and were at full gallop.

They were disobeying orders.  He was thankful.  A good commander knows to read the situation and change plans.  The men slammed into the Lannister’s flank.  The shock of the sudden unexpected attack made the Lannister’s attacking the wagons falter.  Arrows were still flying into the melee.  The Druids were to some degree firing blind with the heavy clouds of dust now kicked up in the air.  The horse and riders whirling and dodging sword blows and whistling arrows.

It was dangerous with the milling forces that had comingled.  Eddard knew it was necessary.  It was the storm of arrows that kept the Lannister’s from organizing an effective counterattack.

With the lessening of the attack Eddard knew they would survive the battlefield.  The Druids and Arya had done their work.  The Lannister’s had been greatly reduced.  His arm was no longer numb and he again fully engaged in battle.  He hacked down two Lannisters.  The Lannister men were now exhausted and confused with the continuing attack.  Defeat always weakened the will of a man to fight.

The attack by Eddard and his Lance men had with the constant deadly accurate arrow fire wore down and now defeated the force of Lannisters.  That had been his plan.  To use shock and a devastating concentrated assault to overcome superior numbers.  It had worked.  The Lannister men broke and fled.  Many fled back up the King’s Highway in the direction from which they had come.  Other straggled out down the King’s Road towards King’s Landing.  Many of them wounded with a few listing in their saddles.  He saw one man fall off.

The battle was over.  He saw Lannisters surrendering.  He felt exhaustion wash over his body. He saw two more either severely wounded or dead Druids draped over the wagons.  He felt his face set in a grim line.  The Druids had sacrificed greatly to give Eddard his victory.  He felt the loss of all his men and women who had fought in his name.  He knew it was necessary to achieve victory but he hated the loss of life.  He felt no elation in the Lannisters he had killed.  It was simply necessary.   

He had his victory. Cersei was denied a large effective fighting force.  He had achieved all his goals. 

He would not be celebrating.

//////////

Arya could not understand her father.  She was elated.  They had obliterated the Lannister force.  The ground around their ambush sit was littered with the corpses of their enemies.  In fact she could not understand the Druids either.  They were solemn.  She understood they had taken loses but they paled compared to the losses of the Lannisters.

She saw the Druids treating the wounded.  She was perplexed that they seemed to giving succor to both their own and the Lannisters.

Her father was cradling a knight’s head as a druid used fire to staunch a deep cut on his thigh.  The man had screamed and writhed and her father cried helping to hold the man still.  Arya had watched her father caring for the wounded.  To her shock he had tended the wounded of both forces.

She had thought the Lord of a High House was above the mundane.

She squatted beside her father.  The man had passed out and Eddard stroked his hair.

“Will he live father?”

“If the wound is not infected.  He will walk with a limp.  He will be limited in battle.”

“Father …” Arya trailed off not sure how to ask her question.

Her father divined her questions.  “I will never be too high and mighty to not help the men who fight and die for me Arya.  I am honored and humbled to offer what succor I can to these brave men.  I hate and detest killing but I will not shy away from it.”

“Hopefully, in the deaths we caused today we will have to kill less tomorrow.  Never come to love the art of killing Arya.  Never hardened your heart to death my daughter.  Do not become a Faceless Man serving death with no care for anything else in this world.  Keep your heart untainted from that blight my sweet daughter.”

“The world needs its champions but never come to love the sins we perform in its service.”

Arya mulled over her father’s words.  She rose up and saw Syrio behind her.  He smiled at her with a tired and a little bit sad smile.

“Your father speaks true words Arya.  When you become a Water Dancer you will be constantly fighting with death.  He will be constantly seeking your life.”  Syrio started to walk away and Arya moved to join her teacher.  She was a warrior and had no skills in the arts of medicine. 

They walked on in silence.

“And what do we tell death Arya” Syrio asked his prized student.

“Not today” Arya answered her teacher immediately.   Syrio clapped Arya on the shoulder.

“Yes.  Today we gave death his due.  We did what was just and right.  I have killed many who only died because they were young and foolish attacking me.  Most I wounded but some I had to kill.  Today we accomplished good for the realm.  Your father fights for a greater good.  Not these Lannisters.  Today we fought and killed for a noble reason.”

Arya continued the path.  She was still elated at their victory but it was tempered now.  She would never shirk in her duty but she would not revel in it.


	18. Surrounded by Wolves

Insurrection

Surrounded by Wolves

 

Slowly Cersei Lannister clawed her way back to consciousness.  Her thoughts were scattered like a dandelion that had been breathed on by a five year old sending the seeds whirling into the air.  The patterns confused and agitated.  The memories from her childhood she had once found humorous but not so now.  Being those seeds twirling helpless in the breeze was quite a different matter.

She slowly sat up in her royal bed.  Her head spun and her vision was blurry as if her world had been upended into a water trough.  Everything seemed muzzy and distorted.  Her head was pounding and her stomach was upset like she was on a galleon on a storm swept sea.  Cersei worked her mouth that felt like it was filled with cotton.  Her skin clammy feeling.

She leaned over the side of the bed and wrinkled her nose.  The chamber pot was still where she vaguely remembered leaving it last night when her stomach had gotten the best of her.  Her stomach rebelling over one or was it five cups to many of wine.

She groaned feeling her stomach roiling and threatening to rebel again.  Cersei very slowly and carefully got out of her royal bed and moved with slow baby steps to the door to her chambers.  She opened the door and spied Sandor Clegane.  He looked totally bored but was alert.

“Sandor” she barked at the man.

He ignored her.

She ground her teeth.  In a more civilized tone she called to him again “Sandor”.

This time he easily heard her and turned to look at Cersei.  With blood shot eyes she gazed up at the tall knight.  She ground her teeth at the man’s insolence.  She tried to be fair at times.  She was running out of guards.  The man never took his rebellious streak to far.  He goaded her but never fell into open rebellion.  She again saw the horrible damage done to his face by his brother.  All for playing with one of his older brother’s toys she thought she remembered.  She shook her head.  Her ire at the man settled.

“Please send for the Grand Maester.  Tell him I need my “remedy”.

The Hound looked at her.  “You might want to ease up on the imbibing my Queen.  Do you truly want Joffrey without the benefit of your counsel?”  He dipped his head and went down the hall to do the Queen’s bidding.

She stared after the man.  He was coarse and mean but at times Sandor showed the strangest insight and dare she say it compassion.  He was a walking contradiction.  She felt a tremor of something pass through her.  These trying times were plucking unused strings of a hidden harp in her bosom.  The strings out of key and the chords discordant.  Cersei shook her head throwing off these unwanted thoughts. 

She went back into her chambers and sat down on the side of the bed.  She ran her hands over her face and through her long locks.

It was supposed to be so simple.  Her plans cut and dry.  She had taken Eddard Stark out of the equation.  She would have Varys work on the proud, vain and ultimately stupid with honor man into admitting he was a traitor.  Which he was.  He proved that by altering Robert’s last words.

He would then take the Black and she would be rid of the man.  Eddard would be out of her hair with his exile to the Wall.  She had it all planned out.  Take out the old Wolf.  Capture his cubs and dole them out as chattel to increase the power and prestige of House Lannister.  Gods knew that her father was always prattling on about the only true thing of worth was the damn name of their House. Cersei had come to really, really hate that saying of her father.  It was quickly ripening to outright loathing with her new insights.

She snorted.  There was more to life than that.  There had to be.  There just had to be.

She stared off across the room.  The only problem with her beautiful plan was that it had all gone to shit.  It was that little twat Arya’s fault.  Somehow the little urchin had avoided capture.  Worse, instead of being a good little irritant and disappearing into the wilds and out of her hair the imp had started a fucking Insurrection.

The wayward Starkling had found allies beyond the Water Dance instructor of hers.  Cersei had come to learn all about Syrio Forel through her whisperer.  The eunuch was good for information if nothing else.  This Syrio had been the first sword of Braavos which of course meant he served the Sealord of that city of blowhards.  The man had been killed in a wild coup that had cost Syrio his job.  He was supposed to keep the man safe and he had died.  That and the rumors he slept with children.

Cersei was many things but she was not a pedophile.  Varys had told her it was all lies.  Cersei grimaced.  He was probably right.  She was herself on a campaign of disinformation thanks to that little wolf bitch Arya.

The girl had not disappeared of course.  Curse her!  She was leading a damnable Insurrection that had attacked her forces so relentlessly and so successfully she had to pull all her forces back into the barracks or the Red Keep itself.  The men had started to grumble and were close to refusing to leave their two sets of barracks.  The East Barracks by the Dragon Gate and the West Barracks near Cobbler's Square.

They would only move in force and in a straight line to the Red Keep and back.  They had learned to send forces up along the rooftops along the routes.  The jackals loved to attack from above.  Cersei had decided to move many of the garrison into the Red Keep itself.  Her force of loyal Red Cloaks had been grievously reduced by Arya and her fellow traitors.

She knew Commander Janos Slynt was a corrupt man who embezzled money from his men.  Robert had kept the man fearing his successor might be worse.  The Queen looked at her hands contemplating Janos.  She had come to detest the man being in his close association all the time now but what recourse did she have.  She needed him and his men.  She needed bodies to defend herself and her family.  Her children must be kept safe. 

Initially, she had not worried too much for everyone’s safety.  The prophecy she had been given had been most specific.  There was no Queen on the horizon to dethrone her.  Still Cersei had become most afraid.  Eddard Stark was loose and he was a prophecy all unto himself.  He had been naïve and outright stupid when he came to her.  Cersei feared that Eddard could only be fooled once.  She had had her chance at the man.  He was now plotting her downfall.  She knew what happened when dynasties were disposed.  She had seen it with Elia Martell and her helpless children.

Cersei had never thought that much on the past or the sad fate of Elia.  She had her own prophecy to worry over.  Now with the noose tightening she felt what Elia most have felt.  Fear that only grew till you felt it strangling you.  _Cersei needed a drink_!

Cersei looked around at the four walls of her royal bedroom suite.  She was trapped in her own castle!

Arya had trapped her in her own Lion’s Den.  Then, to make it so much worse the brat of a whore had somehow freed her father from the dungeons.  Her son had sent for Eddard in the middle of the night and had stumbled across the rescue of the father.  The bitch and her strange allies had again decimated her forces. 

The lioness of Lannister sat on her bed.  She could never admit it but she admired Arya Stark.  The girl had been allowed to take up the sword and the arrow.  Cersei had not.  Now Arya was saving the day and Cersei was sitting on her bed wringing her hands in abject fear.  If only she had been allowed to take up the sword!  If only her dreams had not been crushed by her father.  Jamie would have trained if he had the balls to defy their father.

It was infuriating. 

There was a polite knock at the door.  Finally!  She went to the door in a slow clip to keep her world from reeling.  She opened the door and let in the Grand Maester, Pycelle.

The old doddering man walked in clucking at Cersei.

“You really need to stop this excessive drinking my Queen.  It is not good for your constitution.”

“Not you too damnit!  Just give me the remedy already!  The weight of sovereignty weighs heavy on my shoulders.”

The man hummed in acknowledgement.   The man handed her crystallized ginger to nibble on.  The spice would start to quell her nausea and feeling like she needed to vomit again. 

The man then left a concoction of 1 teaspoon of salt and 8 teaspoons of sugar into 5 cups of distilled water.  He had whisked in a ½ cup orange juice.  He told her to sip the mixture slowly throughout the day, storing it in a bucket of ice.  He told her to eat some food particularly carbohydrates.  Every day he gave her the same instructions.  Cersei fumed but dare not piss him off and have him somehow pervert her potion. 

It was the same routine every morning now.  She was drinking too much she knew but she needed relief.  All the news was bad and it kept getting worse.

She had nearly soiled her undergarments when she discovered that Eddard Stark had been freed.  He was crippled but still he was a symbol of the North.  This was dire news but she had not been too worried.  He was isolated and a non-threat.  What did she have to fear from a cripple?  Cersei used this logic to comfort herself.  No one feared Willas Tyrell since his injury.

Or so she had thought.

Then the ravens had started to fly across the width and breadth of Westeros.  Ravens carrying the scrolls of one Eddard Stark.  Where had he gotten the ravens!  Pycelle assured her that all the ravens in his rookery were accounted for.  This might be so and yet the man seemed to have an unlimited source of the damned birds.

They had gone to all the Major Houses of Westeros.  Repeatedly!  The man was seeking alliances.  She knew he was finding them in the Riverlands and the Vale.  The North was preparing for war!

None of this was supposed to be happening!  She had it all planned out.

Then he had started spreading dirty filthy vicious lies.  Lies about the parentage of her children.  That she had lay with Jamie her twin brother to birth her three sweet children Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen.  He had said that she and Jamie had pushed his own son to his supposed death.  She proclaimed loudly to anyone who would hear of the lies the man.  The only problem the man was speaking the absolute truth.

Cersei saw in her mind’s eye Jaime pushing Bran out the window.  Cersei’s face twisted.  That was not her fault!  Damn Jamie for acting rashly!  She had merely meant to gather the child into the room in the broken tower and put the fear of the seven … or would it be the old gods—it didn’t matter!—into the child.

Eddard told in his missives how she spiked Robert’s drink on his hunt.  Thus, enabling the bore to gore her dear sweet departed husband.

It was all true of course.  Damnit she had every right to do as she did.  Robert was a drunken buffoon.  Why was it alright for the Targaryens to love whom they choose and not her and Jamie! 

She denied it all.  What else could she do?  It was Eddard that had spiked the drink of Robert wanting his throne.  It was all lies about Jamie and her.  She had loved dearly her dear departed husband.  _Bastard_!  _Good riddance_!  He had done nothing but rape her since the night of their wedding!  The buffoon did not have to drink like a sodden asshole.  She only gave him the means.  He did all the work himself.  _Bastard_!

Eddard had not been satisfied with his accusations.  No.  She finally found out how he and Jon Arryn, she supposed, figured out the true parentage of her children.  Eddard had sent out page and verse to be read of The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, the children of a Lannister and a Baratheon always had black hair.  On top of the book Eddard reminded everyone of the last union between a Baratheon and a Lannister had been ninety years before when Tya Lannister wedded Gowen Baratheon; the single child was large and lusty boy with a full head of black hair. Thirty years before that a Lannister had taken a Baratheon maid; all the children had black hair.

That would prove to all the truth.  The only way she could counteract the truth was to now kill Eddard as a traitor and create a new truth to supplant the real truth.  But to do that she had to kill Eddard.  A man that had disappeared just like his bitch daughter.  They moved around King’s Landing like the proverbial ghosts from the dead come back to Earth to wreak havoc on one Cersei Lannister.  _It was not fair_!  She had only dunderheads at her side and Eddard had Arya.  All Cersei had was Joffrey.   That made her gulp.  _It was not fair_!

Damn Eddard’s eyes.  He was too smart by half and yet he had been a lamb.  She had easily taken him down.  No more.  The man had learned from his mistakes.

He was casting serious doubt on her and seeking alliances.  She had been waiting for her father to come to her rescue.  She knew it took time to form an army and take to field.  Marches were notoriously slow.  It did not matter the minstrels and bards always made them seem magically fast.  She knew that much about military tactics.  She didn’t care what that damn scribe GRR Martin wrote in his historical novels that she read at night snorting at him.

Her father had been enraged at the scrolls from Eddard and his acquisitions.  She assured her father they were all baseless lies.  Even if he suspected Eddard might be telling the truth her father would still come to her aid.  Otherwise his precious House name would be fatally besmirched.  Tywin Lannister could never countenance that.  He would back her lies because he must.  Else, all her father had worked and schemed for would be for naught.  Cersei sneered to herself at her father’s twisted ideals.

Cersei’s eyes lost focus as her mind drifted to her past in Casterly as a child and then adolescence and the pain inflicted on her by her father.  She shook her head to return to the present.

She had felt safe with Eddard being a cripple.  He may be able to spread his sedition but he would not be able to lead the forces against her.

She had the captains of the Red and Gold Cloaks examine the arrows that the insurgents were using against them.  She had wanted to know who she was fighting.  She had Pyrcelle to study the tomes to help them discover who her enemies were.  That was a large part of any battle.  To know your enemy.  Jaime had told her that in passing one time.  She had not forgotten that.

She had been flummoxed when it was reported back to her that the fletching and the arrows themselves fit no known style of arrows across Westeros. Each region and even some Houses had a distinctive way of making their arrows that Maesters had recorded and that military leaders came to know through combat.

Not these longbow arrows.  It was if Arya had taken up with some mythological warriors out of some faery tale from the hinterlands of Dorne or the North.

That was impossible.  She had looked at the arrows herself but of course she was not able to glean any information except for one particular arrow.

It was smaller and lighter in construction than the longbow arrows.  These arrows were easily identified.  They were of the North and of one House.  The House of Stark.  The daughter of Eddard Stark was actively fighting her.  The wolf cub was leading the Insurrection against House Lannister.  An Insurrection that had become much more dangerous with the freeing of Arya’s father.  Arya Stark herself was directly opposed to Cersei Lannister.  These arrows of the North had slain many men of Cersei’s house.

Cersei stared off into space sipping her remedy that Pyrcelle had left for her.  Arya Stark was the warrior she had always wanted to be.  The warrior that Jamie had been allowed to be.  She had cried and kicked her pillow many nights at the injustice of it all.  She paused at the strange dreams she had sometimes.  Dreams she never shared with anyone.  She was in Dorne and had become a mighty warrior.  She smiled at that.  Then she frowned.  There was that one detail that highly disturbed her.  The idea of becoming Obara’s wife was just not right.  _How could she ever turn lesbo by the gods_!

She had thought that all was finally righting itself.  A raven arrived that said that a contingent of light cavalry was on its way to King’s Landing to supplant her forces till a larger force could arrive down the Gold Road from Lannisport.  That had been ten days ago.  She was also informed that communication was trying to be established with the Lannister forces rampaging in the Stormlands.  It was hoped that communication would reach Gregor Clagne and Jamie to return to King’s Landing.

The forces were constantly on the move and it was hard to get word to them.

Cersei had felt relief.  That relief had turned to bile.  The force of five hundred light cavalry had been ambushed and annihilated.  The attack had been well planned and perfectly executed.  The survivors had arrived in King’s Landing in shock and disorientated. 

All twenty-two of them.  She had been incredulous.  The damnable archers had been the main force of the attack.  There had been knights that attacked too from the flank unseen for.  The attacking knights had been devastating launching an attack of lances.  The charge had come in unlooked for and been absolutely effective.  There were tales of one man that was a whirlwind of death and mayhem on horseback.

Cersei had felt ill.  She had inquired of the man.  She had relaxed a little when the man describe to her was not definitely not Eddard Stark.  This man had no beard and wore his hair short.  That hair being black and not the brown of her nemesis. 

Still she felt the unseen noose tightening around her neck.  Her instincts told her who the man was though it was impossible that a cripple could be so effective on the battlefield.  Cersei ignored the small voice whispering the truth.  The cub now had its father in the fight.

Arya’s Insurrection was becoming a very serious threat to her and her children.  She remembered again the prophecies of Maggie of the Frog.  She simply had to end this here and now.  She had to gain control of the situation to save her children.

//////////

Cersei again had her goblet filled with hard red wine.  She was sipping the fruit of the vine her face grimacing at the burn.  Though the wine bit as it went down Cersei took more droughts of the drink.  She needed it.  She gazed up at the throne of Aegon.  Joffrey was on the Iron Throne pretending to lead.  He was berating a man seeking to get recompense for a man destroying his home because he had been pissed off that the man would not sell his produce at the price he had demanded. 

The defendant was a minor lord.  Cersei had easily seen the Lord was in the wrong.  Of course her son had sided with the Lord and heaped abuse on the common man.  She had looked out at the audience hall.  She saw the repressed anger and discontent on the commoners’ faces.

She had a small epiphany then.  Joffrey wanted to be alone on the dais of the Iron Throne.  He was the king was he not?  The problem was the fact that Joffrey was clearly not ready.  Cersei had understood her son’s need to be in a position of superior power.  Still, standing down here with the common people she felt their anger at their treatment.  This new perspective was most intriguing.

There was nothing she could do though.  She would not countermand her son in front of others.  It would weaken his rule and cause conflict between her and her eldest.  He was easily upset.  When he became upset he was quite caustic.  The mother had come to realize of late that her son was in fact uncontrollable.  In the dark of night she feared that Joffrey was doomed to become Aerys III.  She looked at her son.  She was vain she knew.  It was a Lannister trait after all, but, something more hid in the breast of her son.  Something dark and sinister was taking root.  She had begun to fear that ‘something’.  Where was Jaime?  He had strength and the right to use it by right of being born male.  Cersei seethed again at the sin of being born female.

She kept her mouth shut but mulled over her new insights.  Her insights were coming faster now.

Soon the audience session was over and the supplicants were removed.

Joffrey looked down at the audience hall.  He stood up and ordered that the commander of the Red and Gold Cloaks be brought in.  He also demanded that the surviving leader of the reinforcement column be brought it.

Cersei looked around at those remaining in the hall.  She saw Sansa trying to be unnoticed in the back of the room.  She had learned to put a stoic countenance on her face.  Joffrey was constantly belittling her for being the daughter of a traitor.  Cersei did have to admire the girl a little.  She had at first shrank and wilted under the barrage of her son’s abuse.

She no longer shrank.  She was polite and reserved and never said anything cross in return but she now stood straight and firm.  She would let her eyes flash with defiance and resentment for instant and only then guard them.  She was no longer a cow.  She only gave a hint of rebellion to her son.  Enough to rise his suspicions but not enough to spark his anger.  The girl was playing her own Game of Thrones with Joffrey.

Cersei suspected she knew where the girl’s sudden spine had come from.  Her father.  Her sister Arya Stark.  Sansa Stark was drawing strength from her father and sister being on the loose and creating havoc among the forces of the Throne.

Sansa had let her control slip a little when Byrron Lannister had come into the Red Keep.  He had been the leader of the slaughtered column that was supposed to be their reinforcements that would have allowed the Throne to start to get control of the situation in the Red Keep.

Sansa had smiled great big seeing that man come in with arm bound to his chest and bloody bandages around his ribs.

Cersei had felt poleaxed and Joffrey had looked it when the man came in and told them that there would be no reinforcements that day.  Most of the survivors had been as injured as Byrron.  When the details of the ambush were given to the King and his Regent, Cersei had felt great fear.  This had to be the work of Eddard Stark.  She had asked for any details on the man that was described to them.  What she had heard calmed her.

It would seem that Eddard was not part of the assault.  Thankfully.  Cersei had blanched to think that Eddard Stark had somehow recovered from his crushed leg to lead the assault.  He was a cripple now.  She had to keep telling herself that.  _He just had to be_.  There was no magic in this sad world.  The whispers in her ear did not cease though.

Cersei could still clearly see Sansa and the big feral smile on her face.

“What are you smiling at traitor?!” Joffrey had snarled at Sansa.  “Your father may have won the day but my Grandfather is coming.  When he does I will have your father’s head tared and put on the Red Keep’s walls girl!”

Sansa had only looked at Joffrey.  “Always in motion the future Joffrey.  It is hard to see.  We shall see my King.  The Lion of Lannister is indeed roaring.  Surely I do not hear a note of fear in your voice?” Sansa asked as if seeking some deep truth from the Oracle. 

Joffrey had screamed at Sansa then.  She had stood to her full height that unfortunately made her two inches taller than Joffrey.  They had locked eyes.  Joffrey fumed and Sansa seemed placid.  Her son had not won that staring contest.

Cersei had sighed inside.  Gods, her son could not stare down the daughter of a traitor when she had a sliver of hope.  The throne was in trouble.  Gods where was Jamie when she needed him Cersei wondered to herself.

Yet again Cersei was vexed that she had not been allowed to take up the sword.  She was better than Jamie at everything.  She would have been better at that too.  She knew it.

Joffrey now had the commanders of his Red and Gold Cloaks brought before him from outside the admittance doors.  Once the military commanders came into the room Joffrey started in on them.  He berated them for the lack of acumen on the battlefield and lack of foresight as to the plans of the enemy.

“I could have told you that you would be ambushed on the King’s Road.”  He waved his hand in a vague way.  “Anyone could have seen that it was time for such a move.”  Cersei thought spitefully why her son had not come to her and their commanders with this insight.  _Before the battle_.

The men endured the diatribe.  Cersei could see that Joffrey was getting wound up like a spinning top.

Cersei looked around helplessly.  _Please not again_ she pleaded to herself.  She loved her son desperately and would do anything to make sure that the damnable prophecy of that toad woman would not occur but she was growing tired of her son.  His constant prattling was wearing on Cersei.  She never asked him why he never gave his insights _before_ the events in question happened.  He was the anti-prophet she sneered to herself.  Always late to the drama. 

She saw her two youngest children in the corner at a table setup for them.  Myrcella was practicing her needle work.  She was becoming quite skilled doing crewel and tatting.  She was focused on that not paying any attention to the events around her. 

Tommen sat beside her.  He was reading his books and playing with the three cats he had raised since they were kittens.  She was a little worried about Tommen.  He seemed so soft Cersei thought to herself.  Joffrey was a walking mess most of the time but at least he acted like he was a virile man.  He may fail miserable but he at least tried.

Cersei narrowed her eyes.  Tommen and Myrcella spent all their time together.  She wondered if they were exploring each other’s bodies as she and Jamie had by their current ages of thirteen and twelve.  She did not think so.  She knew what to look for since she and Jamie had already been lovers at that age.  She did not see the hidden glances and intimate touches she had been sharing with her twin at their age.

She did not really care if they did have feelings for each other.  She paused in her thoughts.  She and Jamie had always been so primal and physical in their relationship.  She wondered more and more if their relationship was missing something. 

The casual sharing that she observed between Tommen and Myrcella she and Jamie had never truly shared.  She and Jamie never had the ‘deep’ conversations she heard her two youngest have.  They would discuss the environment, history and current events.  Cersei knew they delved into the politics that surrounded them trying to make sense of the confused chaos the adults just accepted as their lot in life.  They talked and listened intently to each other.  She and Jamie never had done that.  They had been more interested in the pleasures of the flesh and trying to live up to their father’s high expectations for them.  They had been taught to bring honor to their House.  Their father made that need paramount to his children.  Even Tyrion had to endure the shit.

Cersei mused on that.  That was something she had not burden her children with.  Joffrey had taken readily to the reins of power.  Even if he was inept at it.  Myrcella and most especially Tommen seemed to have no desire for it.  She did not castigate them over it.  She only wanted them to be strong.  The throne was for Joffrey; not Tommen.  Cersei knew she would have to use the whip to bring Tommen along if she ever needed to make him ready to rule.

Cersei snorted.  _Kittens_.  Tommen had lifted Speckles and was kissing him on the nose.  _House Lannister was doomed_.

She shook her head again.  She would keep an eye on them.  She intended to have Joffrey allow royals to marry within the bloodlines.  The Targaryens always had and now the Lannisters would also.

Cersei let her gaze wander.   Varys had a patient look on his face.  His hands in the sleeves of his robe.  He looked placid as he watched Joffrey tell everyone and their brother just how great he was. 

She looked at Littlefinger.  He had that perpetual smirk on his face. He always looked like he was privy to some inside joke that only he had the intelligence to understand.  It angered her.

Varys was smarmy and unsavory.  She could never be sure exactly where his allegiances lay.  Still, she had the feeling that generally she could trust the man to do his duties.  Petyr Baelish was another matter altogether.  There was something off putting about the man.  She knew he was plotting something but she was not sure what.  He seemed to have no designs on the Iron Throne.  What else could he desire?  Not knowing what his aims were totally threw Cersei.

She knew Varys and Petyr were constantly watching each other closely.  They never found the evidence they needed to bring the other down.  Again Cersei would just have to watch and wait.

The ginger had done its work.  She felt much better.  She was again drinking from her wine goblet.  She needed the relief.  Events seemed to be spinning just out of her reach.  Like a dream where the keys to all her secrets and desires were always out of focus and just on edge of clarity. 

It was maddening.  She needed the surcease that alcohol gave her and she took it.  Somehow the Insurrection was staying just one step ahead of her.  It was even staying one step ahead of her father.  She never thought she would see that.

Eddard had mobilized enough resistance to slow her father’s initial prongs of support to King’s Landing.  Slowed but now stopped.  A large force was bulling its way down the Gold Road.  They had learned from the initial hit and run attacks.  In the mountains they had to accept the attacks.  The mountains were to the enemy’s advantage.  In the more placid flatlands they had sent out many patrols on their flanks to thwart most of the attacks.

A large force was moving towards King’s Landing and would be here in ten days no more than twelve according to ravens from her father.  She just had to hang on that long.

She had the forces to keep the Red Keep safe.  No force could reach them and lay siege to them long enough to force their way into the Red Keep.

Cersei just had to be patient a little time more.  She just hoped her liver survived.  She took another big swig of her wine goblet.

Joffrey was up now making awkward parries with her sword.  He tripped and fell nearly cutting his arm on his own sword.

Again, Cersei thought to herself:   _we’re doomed_.  She knew she should not have such thoughts about her own son.  He got up wincing and whining.  _We are doomed_ she thought again. 

A thought she had had off and on again over the years since Robert Baratheon had taken the thrown came to Cersei. 

What if Eddard Stark had taken the throne and not that fucking oaf?  Eddard Stark was everything that Robert was not.  Honorable to a fault.  He was kind and compassionate.  If she had married that man, she could have been the fire and iron to guide Eddard Stark among the dangers of the realm.  She could have defended him from the snakes at court. 

She sometimes contemplated the fates.  Would any of Eddard’s code of honor have rubbed off on her?  Having something to strive for.  She never had that with her family.  Her upbringing.  Honor for the name only of Lannister.  Never true honor for and of itself.

Snakes she understood.

She sighed.  Eddard was stiff and not very imaginative but if she could have convinced Eddard so that they should follow the Targaryen way.  She had had a few fantasies of both Jamie and Eddard being her husbands.  The three of them could have complimented each other.  She was even willing to add that prim and rod up her ass Catelyn Tully.  _The more the merrier they said_.  She remembered her dreams of loving Obara.  She could not but help wonder sometimes about being married to Eddard and the wife that came with him.

Sometimes her dreams were of sexual excitement and wild sex that had no man in it.  Only visions of Catelyn.  Those she suppressed.  She had too.  Her sanity demanded it.  It was abhorrent.  Wasn’t it?  That was what the Septons said.  _Fuckers_.  She shook her head.  Enough wild thoughts!

It did not matter anyways.  It would never occur.  Now they were mortal enemies.  So be it.  Let the Lion and Direwolf contend.

Cersei had every intention of winning this battle.


	19. It Is Time

Insurrection

It Is Time

 

It was near midnight.  Eddard looked up at the high thin scudding clouds.  They were like small islands sailing across the sky.  The moon was full and shinning bright up in the sky.  Its light making the world like ethereal dreams.  Eddard looked down at this hands in the magical light.  He thought of the ancient legends of the Children of the Forest that Merrel’s tales had him thinking of.  Of late his thoughts filled with thoughts of that ancient people.  People his family committed genocide on.  Could he ever make restitution?

Eddard looked down the road.  Two men were walking down the lane.  Eddard looked back up and watched a high cloud occlude the moon.  The thin cloud seemed to light up from within.  It was like someone had put a lantern into the cloud making it glow from within.  Then the strong wind currents blew the cloud past the bright orb that lite the heavens. 

Eddard smiled seeing more clouds anxious to kiss the face of the moon.  He looked back down the road that led to the Dragon Gate. 

He looked at the men.  For the last nights these men had been streaming in.  They were a vanguard of the Vale knights that had ridden hard from the Vales of the Arryn.  With Eddard’s ability to communicate constantly with Westeros, with ravens the Druids were letting him use Eddard had been given an immense tactical advantage.  Eddard had made it clear that he needed a force of knights as soon as possible.  The man who would be King urged the forces aligned to him to hurry to his call of banners as fast as possible.

He did not need a large number.  He had made it clear he needed two hundred and fifty men to overthrow the Lannister dynasty.  He only needed enough numbers to make his coup quick and brutally efficient.  Eddard had never been a man to waste men needlessly.  He explained he had a plan.  He would take down the Lannisters from within their own lion’s den.

He still seethed at how he had so misread the situation in the Red Keep in his time as the Hand of Robert Baratheon.  How had he been so arrogant and so deluded?  He had divided his forces and wasted many good men.  Not this time.  He would do in all his power to make sure that did not happen again.

He greeted the men advancing down the road.  The Druids had vetted them as they advanced down the road.  The men coming to Eddard had been closely observed first by high flying ravens and then by their Druid masters.  The men thoroughly spied on as they talked at night around their banked campfires never realizing they were closely being observed. 

Only as they closed in on King’s Landing did the Druids approach the advancing forces under the white banner of truce.  Then they handed the advancing forces scrolls with Eddard’s seal.  The men reading his words and understanding these robed men and women were their allies.  The Druids had taken the horses from the men the day before so they would advance the final distance to the Red Keep on foot.  The horses were to be hid in hidden corals in the hills and wadis surrounding King’s Landing.

Eddard knew that any Lannister loyalists would be looking for reinforcements to be coming in on horse.  A gathering of forces to assault the Red Keep.  Eddard smiled.  He found out that the two men were Jorvan Collinner and Theodal Waynwood of House Waynwood.  The second man a cousin of Anya Waynwood. 

He greeted them warmly.  They were coming to join in his cause.  He thanked them for their answering his call of banners.

The men responded it was an honor to serve the great Eddard Stark.

These forces had been streaming down all the roads leading to the Red Keep.  Eddard was using all the roads that led to King’s Landing so as to diffuse the men that were going to augment the Druids and Targaryen loyalists that had already gathered underneath his banner.

Eddard had needed to get out of King’s Landing.  He felt like he was trapped constantly hiding in the slums of King’s Landing.  So he was out in the open this night.  Thus, tonight he greeted some of the men coming to answer his call of need.

He handed them off to the Druid who was going to take them to the safe house and the smuggling tunnel located within it.  The Dragon Gate had three such houses.  Eddard smirked smiled.  He found it humorous bringing in forces through the Dragon Gate and the Gate of the Gods.  He could have avoided those gates but he chose not to.  He loved the symbology of it.  The barracks of the Gold Cloaks were close by and yet he was effortlessly moving his forces through.

His daughter, Arya, Syrio and the Druids had savaged the forces of the Lannisters so bad that were basically staying in their barracks and in the Red Keep itself.  When they did move they moved in large numbers that were easy to avoid.  The Druids ravens confirmed that were not moving about except to run like harried jackals from barrack to barrack.

He now had three Druids that had another type of familiar that allowed Eddard to also patrol the night.  He marveled that these people had slipped out of human knowledge nearly eight thousand years ago and remained unseen and unknown since then.

It galled him to know that his own house had been instrumental in their downfall and the people they supported.  The children of the Forest.  He was humbled that they had decided to align themselves so strongly with House Stark.  The Druids had set aside any animus for past sins.

Eddard Stark hoped to make amends for the sins of the past.  To start to undo those wrongs he needed to do what he had come to realize he should have done when he had entered King’s Landing during the end of Robert’s Rebellion.  His sweet wife Cat still had to hold and calm him when he woke up screaming and sweating profusely in the middle of the night.  He would never forget the horrors he saw.

If only he had arrived just a day earlier.

He could still see it all as if it had happened yesterday.  The ruined body of Elia Martell and her two innocent children.  Their bodies broken and defiled.  He had had the sheets pulled back.  Nearly twenty years later he still could see their faces and ruined bodies.

He had been filled with such unease with how easily Robert had discounted the sins of those deaths.  Robert had made the argument that all made in a Rebellion or Insurrection.  One must fully eliminate the past to install the future.  Tywin Lannister was responsible not himself Robert had proclaimed.  Tywin had denied he gave any such orders.  For a man who demanded order and obedience, Eddard highly questioned the lack of control and discipline of that day.  A lack of control that had allowed monsters like Gregor Clegane to run amok. 

Robert had countenanced that sin.  Eddard had done nothing to step in and demand justice.  Now a generation later Eddard seethed at his cowardice of twenty years ago.

He had enough of killing for a lifetime he had thought at the time.  He had killed good men whose only sin had been to choose the other side in Robert’s Rebellion. 

He still saw the sword piercing Arthur Dayne’s back.  He understood what Howland Reed had done.  It was war.  But to strike such a man down like that.  It still saddened Eddard to this day.

Eddard shook his head bringing himself back to the present.  He turned to follow the two additions to his Insurrection.  A few more would be coming in several hours.

He had forces moving in though all the gate areas.  He had discovered through the Druids that all the major gates had their own smuggler tunnels nearby to move goods into the City without them being taxed.  It also allowed for those on the run from the authorities to move in and out of the city.

Eddard smiled being one of those men now.

Another small force of Druids had come into the Red Keep following the Lannister force they had harried down the Gold Road.  The rest were harrying the next much larger force.  This force had learned from the hit and run tactics used against the previous force. 

In the mountains they had no answer.  The Druids knew the trackless depths of those mountain ranges.  But once the new Lannister force hit the piedmont and then grasslands they had spread out pickets to sweep the flanks of their force.  They now had the force to do that.

So the Druids were only occasionally assaulting if and when the force of Lannisters let their guard down.

The Druids had streamed in days ago.  Now the forces from the Vale of Arryn were using the Dragon Gate, Old Gate, Gate of the Gods, Lion Gate , Kings Gate, River Gate (Mud Gate), Iron Gate.  Forces were also being smuggled in by boat along the seaside edges of King’s Landing.  There were many smuggler tunnels in Aegon’s High Hill that were being used to bring in forces.

With the Lannisters hold up Eddard had free access to the city.  He was using it to his utmost advantage.

The major Lannister force was now four days away.  A month behind that was Tywin’s main army.  This force of three thousand men was to enable Cersei to hold on till he could arrive with his army.

Eddard knew that his ambush would only work once.  He was making sure the Gold Road was cleared of all traffic before the advancing column when it had entered the Riverlands and now the Crownlands.  The forces of the Lannisters would not broke any disruption of their advance.  They would treat any blockage or large numbers of persons on the road as enemies.

They would take no chances and Eddard was not going to place any innocents in harm’s way if he could prevent it.

It was time. 

He would strike tomorrow.  The forces of the North were trained and now mobilizing for a March south.  The Riverlands were also mobilized now but using their forces to harry the advances down the King’s Road and threatening the Easternmost Castles and Lord Holdfasts of the Westerlands. 

This was definitely causing a diminution of the efforts of House Lannister.  They _had_ to protect their own.  To do else would raise alarm, then contention and eventually rebellion.  Tywin had to send forces to protect his own.  Thus, the army he was sending to King’s Landing was much less than it would be otherwise.  Still, he had a head start on Robb and he was closer.

Eddard needed to take over the Iron Throne and hold Tywin’s daughter and grandchildren hostage.  Tywin would worry about their parentage after he had taken care of the “Direwolf problem” Varys spies reported from Lannisport. 

Eddard did not need to know what Tywin’s plans were.  It was obvious.  Go to King’s Landing.  Put down the Insurrection and kill all responsible.  If none were left alive then who would be left alive to continue spreading the vile lies that Eddard Stark had been spreading.

Eddard needed to make sure that Tywin Lannister was given reason to pause and stop a full fledge attack.  His progeny under his control would ensure that.

Eddard had it all planned out.  He would strike quickly and decisively.  With his resources at his disposal he would attack in such a manner that he would still keep his assets a secret.  He did not want the Druids exposed until he had implemented wide reaching changes in Westeros.

He wanted to keep the tunnels rife through the Red Keep and throughout King’s Landing a secret too.  They were too valuable to let any others know of them.  He needed to keep Varys alive and innocent of any thought of subterfuge.  He was to valuable a tool too.

Eddard was like everyone else.  He could never ever completely trust the man.  He was a rogue agent.  But after a heart to heart talk along with steel pressed into vital organs he felt he understood the man.  Generally, they wanted the same goals.  That would allow Eddard to hopefully shape the man into a more reliable tool.

He just need to make sure that Varys understood that he Eddard Stark provided the clearest means to achieve the ends of Varys.  They in the end were the same goals of Eddard.  Peace and prosperity for all in the realm of Westeros.

He had done much thinking of late.  When he took the throne much would change.

He looked out over the grasslands that surrounded the walls of King’s Landing.  A wind had come up blowing out of the South.  It had warmed the air and made the grass sway out across the horizon to the curvature of the Earth.  Eddard breathed deep.  The air was cloying with the smell of humans but still the smell of nature wafted through.

The swaying sea of grass was almost hypnotic beneath the glow of the full moon.  He watched the grass sway and undulate without a care for the concerns of man and his petty ambitions.  He felt the immensity of nature then.  He started to turn away to go back to the distant the walls of King’s Landing.

The hackles on his neck pricked up.  His instincts of danger never failed.  Politics, yes, but not on the fields of battle.  He was being watched.  He turned back around.  He felt the sword on his back.  The weight reassuring.  He scanned the writhing grass as the wind picked up.  He looked out to the horizon.  Yes.  Something was watching him.  It was not man.  It was something primal.  Something powerful.  A force of nature.

He shook his head.  He would not concern himself with those forces.  Nature would take care of itself.  He had to only concern himself with the petty concerns of man.  He was a man and understood those forces.  He could confront and hope to conquer them.

Whatever was in that grass of sea was majestic and primal.  He prayed he never met it.

For several hours he walked back down the marge of the Dragon Road.  Far enough away to follow it but not be seen.  As he walked he resisted the urge to look over his shoulder.  The ‘force’ was following him at distance.  He swore he could feel its eyes boring into his back.  He was not in danger at the moment Eddard felt.  Whatever it was out there in the dark it did not want to attack him.  Not now at least.  He walked on ready for violence but none came.

He went back to the safe house and went down the tunnel and was soon back in King’s Landing.  He looked around.  Even in the middle of the night people were about either finishing off the previous day or rising to meet the coming day.  Like in nature, one set of wildlife went to bed and roost while another arose.  So it was with man.

There were Druids posted on rooftops on the routes that had been designated as safe to traverse.  There was no danger from the Lannisters with them holed up in their Lion Dens but he saw no reason to not be rash and prudent.  The Druids birds were constantly on patrol scanning for any movement from the Lannister or their allied Gold Cloaks.  Though at night the bird’s vision was not that much better than a humans.  Still, the advantage of height was a power unto itself.

The lions had been bearded.  They were awaiting reinforcements.  Not only was Tywin sending reinforcements from the Westerlands the Druids had noticed and sent back reports that the forces of the Lannisters terrorizing the Crownlands were pivoting their forces around and back towards King’s Landing.  They had gotten word that Cersei Lannister was in danger.

The forces of Beric Dondarrion were harassing and attacking their rearguard mercilessly.  They now had Druids with them and had quickly learned the tactics of guerilla warfare.  Their combined forces were wreaking havoc with the Lannisters forces.  The loses were not great but the attacks constantly delayed and scattered the forces of the Lannisters.  The sudden attacks that allowed for no revenge always sapped a forces will.

All Eddard needed now was delay.  Forces loyal were now ready to head south.  He merely needed to hold Tywin off long enough for them to arrive.

There would be no great battle.  He had it all planned out.  He would use his new gleaned knowledge of the Game of Thrones to cajole, wheedle and pit one against the other to achieve his aims.  He would ascend the Iron Throne and subdue all his potential foes.  He had it all mapped out.

He grimaced.  It was really quite simple when he thought it trough and stopped being an idiot about honor and such.  He would always let honor guide him in all things but he would not sacrifice the greater good for the few or the one.

Cersei Lannister had had her chance.  She had taught him this hard earned truth.

He entered into the domicile of the Druid leader in King’s Landing.  Merrel had proven a most powerful and wise ally.  The thought of the man made Eddard walk a little lighter.  The man had indeed given him a second chance at life healing his leg.  He would not squander the second chance.  He had let his sense of honor and compassion cloud his better judgement.

The room was filled with people.  There was a house across the street that had been little used but also owned by the Druids Eddard had come to find out.  The excess of Druids, Targaryen loyalists and now the knights from the Vale were being housed in that house.  There was a tunnel connecting the two residences that most of the traffic was using.

Eddard saw the now seven Valyrians sitting at a table talking in their native tongue.  Three had steins of ale that they were sipping on.  They lifted their mugs in greeting.  Eddard waved to them. 

They were good men.  He would be proud to fight alongside them.  He again thought on how strange life was.  A generation ago, if they had met on the Trident, he and they would have tried their hardest to kill each other.  _What was that saying_ … aahhhh—life made strange bedfellows.  Once enemies were not fast comrades.

He wondered what the future would hold.  He had heard the reports from Varys and the Druids that Daenerys Targaryen had hatched three dragons.  She had survived a walk in fire in her husband’s funeral pyre.  One possible foe had perished.  Had a greater one arisen in his steed?  Eddard could not know. 

The young woman had disappeared into the desert wastes below the Dothraki Sea.  The spies of Varys was sure the woman would die.  Her Khalasar if it could be called that was made up of women, old men and children.  Surely they would perish.  The Druids were of another mind. 

Which was right.  Daenerys was only a young scared girl.  She had her three Bloodriders but they were young and unproven as well.  She would perish.  Wouldn’t she?  Could he have survived at that age defeated with no army to defend him?  Surrounded only by the very young and the very old.  Surely they were on a death march into the Red Wastes.

But if she survived what then.  Eddard let his thoughts wonder.  She would bring magic back into the world was the thought that kept coming to his mind.  If she indeed had accomplished that, what would be her ambitions if she did survive?  Would she be satisfied with a rule in Essos?  Somehow Eddard doubted that.  Her brother had definitely been raised on dreams of returning to Westeros and reclaiming his lost throne.  He had died for it.

What was the young woman’s dreams and desires?  Would she survive to try and make them a reality?

Eddard had learned his lessons.  He was already planning what to do if the woman did reappear out of the desolate wastes.  He would take action and remove the problem.  His solution might not be what everyone would envision.  He would act if and when the time called for it. 

If he ascended the Iron Throne he did not intend to relinquish it. 

Suddenly, the noise in the room increased.  He looked to the entryway to the main hall on the first floor of the building.

“Merrel!” Eddard called out.  The Druid who had healed his leg at great cost had finally returned.  He had begun to fear that something had happened to him though he was assured that he was well by the Druids fellow men and women.

“Eddard!” the man called out. They came together in the center room and hugged each other.

“You are looking well Eddard” Merrel told the man before him earnestly. 

“Thanks to you.  You told me we would be linked.  I know that we felt the same pain.  I will never be able to thank you enough or repay you for what you have done for me.”

“You can Eddard.  You can take the Iron Throne and rule justly.  You can start to heal the land and repair the rift between our people and the Children of the Forest.”

“I will!” Eddard told the man with all the conviction in his heart.

They talked for a few minutes.  Eddard told the Druid he had started to worry about his safe return.  The man had laughed and told Eddard he had spent five days with his wife.  Eddard was surprised to hear of that.  The Druids seemed almost mystical and above the mundane desires of men and women.  Eddard clapped the man on the back.  He should have known better. 

“I hope you had a good time.  She is a lucky woman to have you as her husband.”

“She is indeed a good woman.  I am sure you would approve of her.”

“I know I would.  Hopefully, I can meet her someday.  Maybe I can journey to your hidden vale in the Kingswood.”

“Father!  Father!”  Eddard heard as Arya burst in the room.  It made his heart clench in his chest so to hear his daughter always so excited to see him.  She was growing up to be quite the warrior and it would seem a Water Dancer but she would always be his little girl.

“Arya!  My little wolf girl!  I am so happy to see you!”  Eddard looked upon his daughter with happy eyes as she ran to him and he picked her up and crushed her to his chest and spun them around.  Her feet flying in the air.  It was good to be back with his daughter.  Arya had saved his life.  He felt her heart pounding against him.  His thoughts drifted to his other daughter.  He would save Sansa from the Lannisters though he feared their relationship could never be the same. 

His wife was still out there somewhere and he could only hope she was safe.  The Druids were looking for her.  They thought she had gone to the Eyrie.  That had given Eddard pause.  Cat’s sister was behaving most strangely.  Still, they were family and Cat would be safe with her.  He only had to reach out to her.  The Druids had sent out ravens to the Eyrie but they had been ignored.  Damn Lysa’s eyes Eddard fumed.

In the realm of the North all was well.  The banners allied with House Stark were assembling.  Their training coming apace.  Soon they would be ready.  Robb was fully in charge of the North.  He would make an excellent Warden of the North.

His family would never be fully together with Jon at the wall now and Robb soon to take up his former duties.  Bran he feared had a destiny beyond the kin of man.  But he would have his wife by his side soon enough.  His world would be much more centered when that occurred.

He sat Arya down.

“Father.  I am really progressing in my lessons with Syrio.  He tells me I am improving and getting stronger every day.  He is starting to teach me state craft.”

“What?” Eddard was not sure what that meant.

“Spying father.  It is so exciting.  He is telling me how to observe all my surroundings at all times and commit what I see to memory.  He says it is based on the teaching of a great master of the rapier and teacher from the last century.  His name was Sherlock Holmes.  By learning and observing ones environment you are already one if not two steps ahead of ones enemies.”

“He wants to start to teaching me battlefield tactics and field maneuver but he tells me that you are a great tactician and you should help him teach me.”

“Will you father?” Arya asked him with her steel grey eyes so earnest and full of hope.

Eddard was surprised.  It would seem that Syrio had more in mind for his daughter than a mere champion of the sword.  When he thought of it why shouldn’t Arya learn all that she could?  He was not sure where her destiny would lead her but the more prepared she was the more valuable asset she would be for some great leader.

Syrio had definitely used more than pure swordsmanship to escape and save Eddard.  He had used guile and excellent tactics and his “state craft” to bring Varys to the fold of their little Insurrection.”

“What a splendid idea Arya.  I would be honored and happy to teach you all I know.  After we claim the throne I will start teaching you.  I had thought I had more time actually.  I still have much to teach Robb.  But you are here with me.  You will be my disciple.  I will teach you all I know daughter.”

Arya started to squeal and jump up and down throwing her arms up whooping.  The sight of her exuberance again filled Eddard with a deep sense of happiness and contentment.

Arya Stark was everything that a man could want in a child.  She was smart, cagy, brave and guided by a deep sense of what was right and wrong.  If only Sansa had had that.  We wouldn’t be here right now Eddard thought sourly to himself.  With me about to take the throne.  Eddard paused.  Had everything happen for a reason?  Maybe it was destiny.  Tomorrow would tell.

Two hours later he was in the center of the self-same room.  Two tables had been pushed together.  On it were maps of the Red Keep that Varys had provided.  Also provided, at what Eddard was sure great vexation, a map of the tunnels and secret passages in the Red Keep and the tunnels that branched out into King’s Landing.

Eddard was going over his plans again with his commanders.  He had the leaders of the two parties that would lead the initial assaults.  He had thought that now that Merrel had return that he would lead that attack phase but he deferred to Kiren since he had been away.  He would be her second and support her.  Eddard had paused at that.  Then he remember her bravery and leadership on the King’s Road at their ambush of the Lannister force. 

Why shouldn’t should she lead Eddard asked himself.  She had proven herself more than capable.  So be it.

Jaehaegar Velnalys would lead the other major party that would attack from the inside of the Red Keep.  He would meet up with Theodal Waynwood that would lead up the assault from outside.  They would meet up and propel their assault into the Red Keep.  These two forces would attack first.

It was Eddard Stark who would lead the last attack force.  It was his job to penetrate the inner sanctum of the Red Keep.  They would attack and overcome the inner guard and Kingsguard protecting the boy king and Cersei.  He was ready.

It was time.

The leaders of the attack talked for another hour about the timing and tactics.  The assault would be begin one hour after sunset.  The Druids were used to fighting in the dark and would be at advantage.  Also, Eddard knew most would expect any attack to come deep in the night or in the morn or up to the middle of the day with plenty of sunlight to guide his forces. 

He was trying to break tendencies.  Soon he was alone with his daughter and her teacher.

“We will be ready” Syrio told Eddard.

Eddard sighed and then smiled.  “Yes.  We all will be ready.  We will attack and defeat our enemies.”  He looked directly at his daughter.  “You will be with me Arya.  I will be more secure knowing your bow will be with me.  Syrio.  You are a true sword master.  I have met few men that I truly feared to meet on the battlefield.  Men who I had no surety I could defeat.  I am not a vain man but I know my abilities and those of my potential enemies.  You are on that list Syrio.  I am thankful that you are by my side.  I know that your sword will truly be invaluable in the coming battle.

He reached across the table and took his daughter’s hand.  She beamed. He then reached out and took Syrio’s hand.  The man blushed.  Eddard squeezed their hands.

“We go to battle tomorrow night.  Together along with our allies we will bring down a King and his regent.  Only time will tell what the historians will write.”

“We bring down a despotic rule and try to build up something better.  Something more honorable and just to the common man.”

He squeezed their hands again.  “It is time my daughter and Water Dancer.  Let us go out and create a better future.”


	20. Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN #1: This ends the first arc of this story. When it comes back it will be called "Heir's Apparent" though on AO3 it will have the same name.
> 
> AN #2: I have scripted the story though i am still tinkering with it. I do not publish till i have written the story or almost all of it. Real life does not allow me to write as fast as the past. Also RL took my beta reader and she edited one of my smaller stories. It has slowed me down.
> 
> AN #3: The next arc will be more like Feast of Crows and A Dance With Dragons. i loved those books. Battles and such will commence later on with someone's trip to the East and someone else going to the wall.
> 
> AN #4: Daenerys will not appear in the story till Eddard reaches out and touches her. Until then, her story is the same as in the books.

Insurrection

Attack

 

Merrel was looking around the corner of the tunnel that Syrio and Arya had found that led to the underground river underneath the dungeons.  He surveyed the scene.  He could not see much beyond the edge of the firelight but that was not a problem for the Druids.  They had brought Dustran, Jaxar and Klissa with them. 

Kiran had silently along with seven of her brothers and sisters slipped into the river.  They swam silently towards the dock.  They had over the last two nights attached a rope ladder to the dock that would allow them to silently ascend out of the water.  The guards had never seen or heard the silent work.  The druids were naked to move silently and not weighted down by their heavy cloaks in the water.  Their bows and arrows were wrapped in leather and tightly bound to keep the water out.

There was a group of twenty Lannister men camped towards the back of the large dock area to have the cave wall protecting their back.  The men were eating their dinner and playing cards.  They had two men walking patrol along the edge of the dock.  Their fire in a large brazier was blinding them to the darkness.

It had been almost three and half months since Arya and Syrio had fought their way up from these docks.  The men were focused on relieving their boredom that all soldiers had to fight.  The men were playing cards.  What focus they had was faced out towards the river.  The tunnel leading to the docks had still not been discovered.  Everyone in the Lannister camp assumed that the danger had come from the water.

The guarding forces had installed a set of iron bars against the upstream route of the underground river.  The ceiling was only four feet above the water.  The sappers had made and installed the rods that had been drilled into the ceiling and came down to the water level.  On the downstream end of the cavern was a boat that was anchored down.  It had five men that were actually half alert looking down the underground river for any intruders rowing upstream.

There focus was away from the docks.

The men on the large pier were on an island of light that flickered ghostly images across their faces.  They looked like half formed Titans from a bygone image.

Behind Merrell were twenty swordsmen composed of mainly men from the Vale and leavened with men from the Stormlands and Crownlands who had been loyal to the Targaryen Dynasty and longed to bring down the Lannisters and Baratheons who had deposed the previous reign.  He also had another twenty Druids all armed with their bows and short swords.

He watched the two guards on the edge of the dock walking their patrol and not truly paying attention.  Kiran and the seven other Druids had reached the dock and were hiding underneath the edge.  The Druids were all good swimmers growing up the wilds of Westeros.

Dustran, Jaxar and Klissa had sent their familiars up the tunnel.  All Druids when they took their robe were bonded with their familiar.  This per the norm was a raven.  The black birds would come down to inspect the new robbed Druid and one would chose a Druid.  This often led to a large flying squabbling fight above the new initiate.  A storm of black cawing ravens with becks pecking and clawed feet attacking each other.  Feathers fell from the sky like black rain.  The winning bird would then alight on the new master’s shoulder.  The bird cawing loudly announcing that this Druid was theirs.

That was the norm.  There were the few that were not chosen by ravens but by owls instead.  Here one bird only came out of the forests or mountain vales to alight on the Druid’s shoulder.  Such had it been with the three named Druids.  These Druids had been spying on the guards for the last week. 

No one knew why certain Druids attracted owls instead of the familiar ravens.  The Druids never questioned the choice.  The Druids immediately bonded with their birds no matter the species.

The owls flew high above the guards and then dove into the tunnel behind them unseen an unheard.  One was a mighty female great horned owl.  She had a wing span on nearly five feet and weighed six pounds.  This was Klissa’s owl.  This owl settled down one hundred steps up the tunnel.  Two hundred steps up further were two guards sharing a mug of diluted ail beneath a flickering torch.  The guards did not see the owl in the darkness.  The female owl saw them though with her large eyes.

The two other owls were small screech owls.  This species of owl had wingspans of only two feet and weighed only approximately half a pound.  These two owls sped by the men.  They flew silently and were past the men without them even noticing the birds as they flew just below the tunnel ceiling.  The owls flew on at a furious pace.  The birds had memorized the tunnel layouts the previous week on their treks to learn the tunnels.  The Druids sending them into the tunnels so the smart birds could learn the routes of the tunnels.

The smaller male owl had turned left at the third intersection and flew down that tunnel several hundred yards.  It came to a door and hovered.  It flapped its wings silently looking in the slats of a thick oaken door.  Inside was a small holding hall.  It had twenty men eating their evening meal.  The mental images seen by his human master and life partner. 

The other owl flew up the tunnel and then through the dungeon.  He saw nothing amiss.  He went to the large entryway hall.  He shot straight up to hid in the shadows.  He sat down on a large beam.  His large eyes showing his master the scene below.  Another force of fifty men were spread out along ten tables eating their meal.  They were loud and boisterous.  The owl turned her head looking at the humans.  Her Druid relayed to Merrel all was well.  Then the owl flew off to head back down to the tunnel warren.

It was time to start the battle for the Red Keep.

Merrel turned to look at the guards near the back of the docks.  They had erected long arrow shields as used on the fields of battle.  The guards had learned from their previous conflicts with his brothers and sisters.  The shields were erected on tripods.  These shields protected the soldiers from direct arrow fire.  That was bad.  Merrel smiled grimly.  It was also good.  The shields occluded the senses of the seated Lannister men. 

Merri looked out over the river at the five guards on the boat.  It was two hundred yards away near the tunnel that lead out of the cavern and led to cliffs underneath the Red Keep.  The docks were in gloom.  The boat was well within the range of their longbows.  He looked back at Dustran, Jaxar and Klissa.  They nodded back.  Their owls were ready.

He had led Dustran and Klissa out of the tunnel with their bows notched.  They were still in the dark shadows unseen.  No more could come out to the small steps.  They pulled their bowstrings back.  Merrel and his fellow Druids eyed the guards on their back and forth path marching near the edge of the docks.  They were at the maximum distance from each other.  He glanced back at the guards at the back of the dock.  They were still enjoying their meal.

He slightly jerked his head.  Dustran and Klissa were better marksmen.  All three released their arrows.  They had used special fletching to keep the noise of their arrows passing quiet.  They were slightly less accurate.  It made no matter.

The furthest away guard feel down dead with an arrow in his throat and in the base of his neck from Klissa’s bow.  She was the best marksman among the Druids in King’s Landing.  The closest guard took Merrel’s arrow through his right eye and Durstran’s arrow through his mouth and pierced the back of his skull.  Both men dropped like stones straight down.  Dead.

Kiran and her fellow Druids immediately climbed up the rope ladder onto the dock.  Kiran reached the dock and pivoted around.  Kiran took the bows and quivers handed up to her from the Druids treading water as the first of the rest of the Druids silently climbed up on the dock.

They were at their most vulnerable.  Merrel and his two mates went onto the edge of the rock dock.  They had their bows notched with arrows ready to fire a moment’s notice.  Three more Druids were now on the steps.  All had their arrows notched.  Merrel eyed the guards at their fire unaware of the carnage about to befall them.  The Druids on the steps eyed the men in the far off boat.

The Druids were all in black short black robes with black leggings and linen boots.  They were like wraiths of the deep night in their home forests and vales.  The seven Druids that had been in the river were soon on the dock and within a minute and half had their bows strung and quivers on their backs.  Now thirteen bowmen turned their bows out to the boat.  The need for absolute stealth had passed so they used their regular arrows.  The distance required maximum accuracy.

Kiran lifted her bow up and then slowly lowered it.  When the bow came down to level the Druids let loose and immediately pulled new arrows from their quivers and notched them to their bowstrings.  Four of the men in the boat were struck down immediately.  Two toppled into water the distance and lapping water swallowed the sound.  The next flight of arrows was in the air.  One man was hanging over the edge of the boat with two arrows jutting out his body.  He was trying to push himself up but two arrows hammered him down dead.  The last man was panicked but that ceased when three arrows slammed into his body and flung his body backwards into the water.  He did not rise up to the surface to the water.

The Druids turned their attention to the guards on the dock itself.  Now the rest of the Druids and swordsman silently as possibly had moved onto the edge of the dock.  The Druids moved like shadows and the rest were moving with mostly quiet but it made the Druids grimace.  Three Druids ran to their brethren on the dock edge with their clothing that they quickly put on.

“Hey Myke” a man called out to one of the guards down on the dock “what was the name of that whore we both fucked in Lannisport?”

The Swordsman moved to the fore as the Druids spread out. 

“Hey Myke answer me man!” the man shouted out.

The Druids knelt down as one and pulled their bowstrings back to their ears.

The man stood up and his head poked over the wall of shields.  His eyes went large.

“WHAT THE FU—“

Three arrows slammed into the man’s head throwing his body back as five more arrows slammed into the wall behind his body.  The sound of arrows hammering the shield wall echoed in the cavern.

The sound of men shouting and arms being grabbed for in great haste was heard.  The swordsmen charged silently.  Just as they arrived at the wall of shields the first men appeared above the shield wall.

Three went down immediately with a hail of arrows.  At that same moment the first swordsman slammed into the wall of the Lannister’s shields.  The wall collapsed.  Several men lost their balance but their brothers stormed into the milling mass of Lannisters.  Arrows were whistling in over their shoulders to strike at the Lannisters.

At that time Dustran, Jaxar and Klissa spoke to their owl familiars.  Klissa’s barn owl silently lifted from the steps and built up speed quickly.  She advanced with talons extended.  The nearest guard was just reacting to the sounds of combat below.  Their duty was to run to warn the Red Keep of attack from the River below the dudgeons.

This man rose up and was immediately attacked by the large owl.  The talons raking across his face.  One eye was ruined and his face deeply slashed.  His screams of agony hideous to human ears.  Those sounds meant nothing to the owl.  Wounded prey only primed her instincts.

The torch had been knocked to the steps.  The owl was hovering above the man striking as he swung wildly with long dagger.  The owl knew the danger of the talons of steel of man.

The other man started to run blindly up the stairs.  He never saw the two small screech owls hurtling down the tunnel.  Their talons slammed into his face horribly wounding the man’s face.  He hunched down and pulled his dagger swinging wildly.  The two little owls chittering as they avoided his talon and attacked when possible.

Merrel watched the swordsman fall on the Lannisters like crazed wolves.  They slashed and hacked furiously.  Druids were firing in arrows where possible.  The battle was a massacre and soon over.  One man from the vale had suffered a bad arm wound on his left arm.  It was bound.  He insisted he could continue.  He would guard the rear flank.

They stormed up the tunnels.  The Druids went first silently.  The two leading Druids released their bowstrings feathering the two men now on their knees hunched over trying to protect their ruined faces.  The arrows piercing lungs and heart.  The men fell over gurgling.  The throng of rebels ran up the steps.

They rushed past the tunnel with the guards down it.  They ran up to the Jailer’s cell.  Merrel reached the door and waited for Bracks Hardyng and Jorgan Hewett to join him.  They were Targaryen loyalists from the Stormlands.  Jorgan slammed his foot into the door when Merrel turned the handle.  They busted in.

A homely man screeched.  He was naked in the bed of the room.  Merrel could not help but notice that he barely had a chin and lank blond hair.  His face was marked with pox charters.  The reason he noticed this so much was what else he saw.  His two fellow warriors were equally shocked.

In the bed with this man was a most beautiful naked woman.  The men stared at her perfect curvy body.  They could not but help notice her high firm C cup breast and womanly hips and a flat stomach.  She was an auburn head young lass.  The woman had bright green eyes.  She jumped in front of the man.

“Please don’t hurt Koryn!” she cried out pressing him to her back.  “I love him!”

Merrel felt the tension leave his body and the two men with him.  It was obvious the woman spoke true.

“The keys” he demanded.

The woman ran to the desk and threw them the keys.  They were locked into the cell. 

“Be quiet!” Merrel told them.

“We will!” the girl called back.

Merrel looked at his fellow conspirators.  He saw it in their eyes.  They would not kill this man who was not a player in this Game of Thrones.

They went back down and locked the cell door to the tunnel that the oblivious Lannisters were down.  They sent in Jaxar’s screech owl.  He would stay behind along with two swordsman.  The men unslung the quivers on their backs.  Druids picked them up.  Each Druid now had three quivers on their backs.  The swords men also had three to five quivers on their backs.

They would be needing them. 

The screech owl would make sure the Lannisters if alarmed did not go out some unknown tunnel that was unknown to them.  The forces of the Wolf would need to know of any escape.  There were none but they needed to be sure.

The force of Insurrectionist stormed up the levels.  They were soon at the entryway to the hall leading to the dudgeons.  There was a large force of Lannister’s in the middle of the cavernous meeting hall. 

They Insurrectionist formed in the hall that was at the end of the dudgeon tunnel.  Anron Brewlan kicked open the door.  His loud roar filled the hall getting the attention of all the Lannisters.

“Long live Eddard Stark.  The King of Westeros!  Tonight the Wolf and Dragon will slay the Lion.  Death to Joffrey and Cersei.  The rightful King will have his revenge done to him and his family.  He will have Cersei’s head!”

Merrrel shook his head.  Eddard had been very specific that that be the first war calls and to shout out tripe like that.  The man knew what he was doing.

“Death to the enemies of the mighty Direwolf!” was shouted for all to hear.

Merrel burst out into the hall and was followed by Druids who flowed to stacked crates and turned over the several large work tables.  The Lannisters were turning over their tables and running for other cover as arrows chased them.

It was an immediate standoff.

Exactly as planned.

//////////

Cersei Lannister was feeling another mighty headache coming on.  Her head felt like the falling of mighty timbers crashing through the forest.  Titans toppling down taking smaller brothers with it to the forest floors.  She took another big gulp from her wine goblet.  She grimaced recalling a childhood memory of going with her father as he supervised the felling of cypress trees for ship construction in the low mountains of Oxcross. 

The felling of trees in her head had commenced about the time her son, Joffrey, started to bloviate—she meant expound on his future rule.  Her first thought at the start of her son’s soliloquy had been her now repeated plaintive cry of _oh gods not again_.

“When I come into my full power there will be big changes around here I tell you.”

She saw the Hound eyeing the door wishing to be on guard duty on the other side.

“I will show the common rabble how to truly appreciate a king who will be remembered as a Titan!”

Cersei took a big chug out of her wine cup.  She eyed her son.  She dearly loved him but he was truly insufferable at times.  She sometimes wondered if he was really hers.  She knew deep in her heart what Joffrey’s true mettle was.  It frightened her.

She saw Joffrey eye Sansa who was eating demurely.  She was no longer shrinking under the gaze or barbs of Cersei or her son.  The freedom of her father had emboldened the girl.  She was wise enough to keep her actions and demeanor demure but Cersei could feel it.  So could her son.

“I think I will marry Margaery Tyrell or maybe Arianne Martell.  Both women will thank the seven gods that they will have the fortune to bear my regal children.”

She saw the Hound roll his eyes.  Cersei took another swig of her wine goblet.  She decided a second gulp couldn’t hurt grimacing as the liquid went down her throat.

“I think maybe I will send you to the Iron Islands.  As the daughter of a traitor you will only be a Salt Wife.  My. My.  I fear for you dear Sansa.”

The girl raised her head.  She looked at her son steadily.  “I live for your pleasure Joffrey.  I know you are benevolent and so brave.”

“My traitorous father is coming.  I look forward to you fighting him in one-on-one combat.  The minstrels will write epic songs of the outcome.”

Cersei sighed seeing her eldest blanch at the mere mentioning of Eddard.

Cersei was impressed.  Sansa’s tone and demeanor spoke of admiration for Joffrey but all in the room knew who she thought would get the better of that fight.  Even as a cripple.

“You will confront my father in one-on-one combat.  You are the Lion of Lannister after all.”

Cersei turned to her gaze to her son.  He had started to sweat and gulped loudly.

She saw Myrcella and Tommen studying their brother intently.

“Eddard is regarded as one of the great swordsman of our times” Tommen told his big brother intently.  “I read it in my books.”

Joffrey gulped loudly again.

Outside the door there was a sudden tumult.  The doors to their private residence was thrown open.  In came Arys Oakheart and Mandon Moore of the Kingsguard.  They had between them a Lannister man who looked totally spooked and was sweating heavenly.

“My Regent!”

That got Joffrey’s attention.  He jerked up out of his seat. 

“You will address me!  I am the king.”

Cersei took another big gulp from her wine goblet.  She knew she would need it.

The man turned to look at Cersei’s son with a confused look and turned to look back at Cersei.

“Answer your King soldier” Cersei told the man.

“My King!  The Iron Gate of the Red Keep has been breached!  Forces loyal to Eddard Stark are streaming in.  They are shouting death to the Lannisters.  They cry out to rape all the women and kill the children.  They want to burn Cersei alive!”

Cersei felt her heart quake and her son was pale as a ghost.

Suddenly, another man barged into the room dressed in Lannister red.

“My Regent!  The dudgeons are under assault by forces loyal to Eddard Stark.  They scream for vengeance and death to the Lannisters.  They promise dire justice on all in the Red Keep.”

There were members of the inner court in the room with Cersei and her children.  The courtesans that Robert so loved to have eating with them.  Cersei deemed it wise to continue the practice for continuity purposes.  They had been confused and nonplused.  Now they were pale with fright.

Cersei looked at her son.  His green eyes looked around vacantly.  His body was shaking with fear.

“They demand the head of Joffrey be cut off now and given to them!” the man from the dudgeons said in fast gasp.

Joffrey fell into his seat. The gold circlet on his head fell off.

Cersei jumped up.

“Send all our Red and Gold Cloaks that are not on royal patrol to fight the traitors immediately.  The gates and dungeon halls must be held.  They cannot penetrate deeper into the Red Keep!”  The men turned to Cersei forgetting their supposed king.

“Bring the royal guard details to our quarters.  In case the lines are breeched we need to protect ourselves.  This a good place for defense.  There is only one point of ingress and the door can be bolted from the inside.”  Cersei eyed Joffrey but he was out for the count she deemed.  He looked around like a sheep on his throne chair he had carved for himself.

Both men bowed to her and ran out.  Cersei felt raw terror coursing in her veins but she would be damned if she would cower like her son.  _Did he have spine_?  She watched her son looking around with raw naked fear.  His mouth working soundlessly.  _She had her answer_.

“Arys Oakheart and Mandon Moore take control of the royal guard when they come.  Protect us as is your sworn duty.”  The men bowed and left.  “Sandor Clegane stay in here with us.  I want twenty guard in this chamber.”

“Thanks a lot” the Hound grumbled half under his breath.  Cersei glared at the Sandor Clegane.  She dismissed his insolence from her mind.  Cersei had more important matters to attend to.

//////////

Jaehaegar Velnalys had gone through the tunnels that Varys had mapped out for Eddard Stark.  They were near the Iron Gate that was used to bring in supplies to cook for the citizens of the Red Keep.  Also, day to day items of everyday life were brought in through that gate.

The Druids had fanned out into the Red Keep to start slaying the guards on the curtain walls in their nests and crenelations for archers.  Other guards would be on the thick stone parapets.  The goal was not to overthrow but to take the notice of the Lannisters.  The Druids with him told Jaehaegar after a half hour that the Druids were in place in the Red Keep and on building tops out in King’s Landing.

He had with him nearly forty men.  Two hundred more men waited outside.  It needed to appear that the castle was being stormed from without.

That was when he heard it.  Three separate ravens on the highest towers of the Red Keep cawed first three times.  Then five times followed by three times again.  Their masters had sent mental word to their raven familiars that the assault in the dudgeons had commenced.

Now it was their turn to initiate their part of Eddard Stark’s plan.  He spied the guard hut near the Iron Gate.  He guessed maybe ten men were in it and around the fires outside it.

He heard the sounds of arrows firing in the dark.  Several men cried out in pain.  The guards looked up startled.

Jaehaegar Velnalys looked down at the sheet of paper that Eddard Stark had given him.  He made it very clear to say the words very loud.  They had snuck to within thirty yards of the Iron Gate now.  He squinted at the sheet.

“Long live Eddard Stark.  The King of Westeros!  Tonight the Wolf and Dragon will slay the Lion.  Death to Joffrey and Cersei.”  Jaehaegar was quite impressed with his delivery.  He continued on with the scripted words of death and defilement of Cersei and her family.  He was starting to get into it now putting emphasis on just the right words.

 _Maybe he should have been murmur_ Jaehaegar thought to himself.

His men did not attack immediately but clanged their weapons and started to shout.  From without the gate a mighty roar of discontent went up.  Two men went running into the Red Keep. 

Now he could attack.

He roared running forward.  He saw five of the men at the guard hut go down with arrows piercing their lightly armored bodies.  The armor no match for the mighty longbows at such close range.  He locked swords with one of the survivors and they hacked at each other for several blows till the man dropped his guard and his head was split in two by Jaehaegar’s Valyrian sword “Sweet Vengeance”.

Matamion Velnalys ran up with the family’s other heirloom.  It was a mighty War Hammer with a mighty pick end made of Valyrian steel.  His first cousin ran to the locks and hammered them with his War Hammer.  Fifteen seconds later the lock shattered.  The crossbar was pulled up and thrown off.  The gates were open.  The forces from outside the gate flooded in.

The force from outside advanced in only to the closest buildings to take them over and use for tactical fighting locations.  Druids came in from King’s Landing climbing up into the buildings to provide cover fire.  They were loaded heavily with spare quivers.

It might be a long night.  They were to hold their position.  If Eddard Stark’s plan succeeded that would be all that was necessary.

//////////

Eddard Stark was down the next hall from the hall with the royals in it.  It was a large room that seemed to be for meetings Eddard supposed.  It had a tunnel that came into it.  He had a force of twenty knights and twenty druids.

He had to rely on shock and surprise to achieve his goals.  He knew his diversionary attacks would draw off most of the Red and Gold Cloaks.  Joffrey was not a tactician or leader.

He had planned his attacks to appear as if they must fight their way from the distant locations to get to the royal chambers.  A young child came into the room from the door that led to the hidden tunnel.

She came up to Eddard. 

“My fellow sparrows report that the bait has been taken sir.  The Queen has ordered the reinforcements be sent to the two locations of your attack.  That was ten minutes ago.  She had called the most loyal of the Lannister’s to her.”

Eddard was impressed with the discipline of the ‘sparrows’ working for Varys.  Eddard had come to learn that Varys in some strange way thought of these former urchins as his children.  It was clear these ‘sparrows’ loved the bald eunuch.  It humanized the man.

He processed what the girl told him.  Cersei giving orders gave him pause but he was not impressed with her either.  He should be able to fight his way through that force.  He trusted his prowess and those with him.

“What is your name?” Eddard asked the girl.  She was of dark complexion.

“Wynona Ostel sir.”

“That is a Myrish name is it not?”

“Yes.  I was a slave but I escaped.  Varys takes in slaves that come to him.  We are free.  I serve him.”

Eddard tussled his hair.  She was surprised and she smiled up at him timidly.

“Go now Wynona.  I go to bring down a King.  If I fail I do not want you near.  We will close the door behind you.”

She reached out and touched Eddard’s hand.

“You will not fail.  In Myr it is said that a Direwolf and a Dragon will bring in an era free of slavery.  You are the Direwolf.”

Eddard shook his head at all these prophecies.  Strange.

“Let us hope you are right Wynona.  Now go.”

She left with one last look at Eddard before she pulled open the door to the tunnel and left.  Several men helped push the door shut.

Eddard took a deep breath.  He looked over at his daughter with her bow and Syrio Forel with his rapier out.  It was understood that he would guard Arya as much as he could.  Arya was already a wise warrior.  She would not put herself in needless danger. 

That was his own job.

“Let us go and bring forth destiny” Eddard told the men and women with him.

They all raised their swords or bows.  The druids and Arya had notched their bows and the knights pulled their swords out.

The knights had on their plate armor.  Eddard was in chainmail.  Except for the Kingsguard they _should_ not met fellow knights in the opposing force. 

They opened the door.  The hall was empty.  The knights surrounded Eddard with the archers behind.  They moved down the hall as quietly as possible. 

He rounded the corner.  His eyes went large.  There was a large force of Lannisters.  Right in his face!  The Lannister men were equally shocked.  Eddard slashed his sword back and down.  His sword cleaved the head of the man in front of him.  The sword cut deep into the man’s head driving down to his left temple.  He wrenched his sword free and pivoted around and down to this left and hit a man in the hip severing tendons and shattering his pelvic girdle. 

This knights charged into the large knot of Lannister’s.  Arrows were loosed into the close group of Red Cloaks.  More were sent loose down the hall to slam into the two King’s Guard and the Red and some Gold cloaks behind them.  The plate armor stopped the arrows from fully penetrating the King’s Guard.  Two more arrows hit them knocking them back.

Eddard blocked a chop to his head and pushed on into the milling force of Lannisters.  His sword chopping right and left driving men back.  He was the tip of the spear lunging into the Lannisters.  He slammed into a man driving him back off balance.  He chopped with his sword wounding the man in the shoulder.  He fell back but more surged forth to confront Eddard.

Syrio was a poetry in motion his rapier parrying sword thrusts sending them aside.  His rapier flicking out to cut men across their faces or pierce exposed throats.  The tip of his rapier seeking weak points of armor where joints met.  When his rapier found such points the joints were pierced crippling the men.  Twice he thrust his thin blade through the shoulder joints of the light plate and leather armor to pierce the hearts of his foes fatally wounding them.

Arrows were flying into the Lannisters and gold cloaks who had started to enter the fray.  Eddard saw a man spin around with a white fletched arrow of the north jutting out his shoulder.  Another man went down screaming with a North arrow that had pierced his jaw on both sides.

Eddard moved toward a big strong burley Lannister. Their swords collided violently.  They hacked at each other circling seeking advantage.  More Lannisters and gold cloaks were running to the fight.  The Insurrections were all engaged in life and death fights.  Shouts of anger and fear filled the hall as men fought to defeat their foes and more importantly to live.  Lannisters fell dead as did several of Eddard’s forces.

Eddard knocked his foe’s sword up and his sword thrust found the soft spot of armor at the joint of shoulder and body.  His sword thrust disabling the man his sword arm falling limp.  Eddard kicked the man aside.  He surged ahead.  Several of his knights by his side.  He blocked a hard chop and the man dropped dead with a rapier in his right eye. 

Syrio jumped back.  Arya was right behind him firing her next arrow into a wounded Lannister that was trying to lift his sword up from the floor.

The Lannister’s had superior numbers but the sudden appearance of forces on the doorstep to the room of the royals had thrown them into disarray.  Still, superior numbers were taxing the forces of the Direwolf.

The initial group of Lannisters were falling back.  More were surging up the hall.  Half of the druids and several of the knights formed a rear guard to fire off at the Red and Gold Cloaks before Eddard and to Guard from rear attack.  Varys maps showed that the most direct path from the barracks quarters was down the other end of the hall.  Sounds could be heard coming from that direction.

The Druids and Arya were felling Red and Gold cloaks at a steady rate.  Their bundles of quivers of arrows giving them the freedom to fire hot and fast. 

Another large group of Lannister’s charged forward to save their King.  They were misguided but loyal Eddard thought.  Arrows felled many of the men before they could reach the force of invaders.  Eddard met the first man.  Eddard blocked the sword chop with his sword and threw the man off balance and whipped his sword down in a deadly arc.  Eddard chopped the man’s arm off at the elbow.  His screams piteous. 

The floor had become slippery with the blood and gore saturating the carpets and stones of the hall floor.  The bodies of the dead and wounded tripping hazards for the foes swinging swords at each other or grappling with their enemies seeking advantage.

Eddard moved on.  A knight of the Vale fell.  Eddard cursed as he gutted the Red Cloak who had chopped the man’s head off.  He saw a Druid go down with a vicious leg wound.  His yells of pain loud.

He was near the Kingsguard.  He blocked and parried sword thrusts and chopped and pierced men when he was able.  The Lannisters were being forced back. 

Just as he reached the door to the royal residence he heard another large force of now Gold Cloaks running up the hall.  Damnit!  He had not expected so many opponents.  He turned to face the Kingsguard.  He knew the measure of Arys Oakheart and Mandon Moore.  He was more than their equal.

Mandon Moore stepped forward.  Three of his knights half encircled the men.

“Leave them to me” Eddard shouted.  Of course the other men advanced as he cursed internally.

They were good but not as good as Eddard Stark.

Suddenly a sword exploded out of Mandon Moore’s chest.  He dropped his sword.  The sword was wrenched out of his body and now his head was sent spinning down the hall by Arys Oakheart’s mighty swipe of his sword.

“WHAT?!” Eddard yelled.

Before him Arys took his finger tips and worked them around the marge of his face in a strange circling motion.  Eddard saw a line of blood appear and then disappear.

Before him stood Jaqen H’ghar. 

“I told you Eddard of House Stark I would serve as I see fit.”

Eddard gaped at the Faceless Man.

A large roar went out and more Gold Cloaks were running down the hall at them.

 _Damnit_ Eddard cursed.

AAARRRYYYOOOOOOO! AAAARRRRRYYOOOOOOO! AAARRRYYOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Mighty fell screams of some ungodly beast echoed down the halls.  Eddard looked behind him.  A monstrous Direwolf leaped over the Druids and knights behind him.  The mighty beast seemed to shimmer and suddenly it was running on two legs its forelegs now impossibly long arms with sharp dagger claws.  The mighty beast was past Eddard in a moment as he gaped at it.

The speed! It had moved so fast it could have easily killed him before he could fully protect himself. 

He had heard legends of Were-direwolves.  It seemed many legends of the past were alive in this dawn of a new age he was being told of.

The mighty beast crashed into the Red and Gold Cloaks.  The mighty beast’s right hand surged out and its long talons slammed into a man’s chest killing him as his lungs and heart were pierced.  The wolf’s head lunged forward and a hapless man had his head in its jaws that snapped shut.  The head exploded like an overripe eggplant.  Brain and blood splattered everywhere.  The were-direwolf’s left hand swiped a man to the floor and its hind limb raked into his body disemboweling the Gold Cloak.

Eddard and his force stopped fighting except for the archers loosing arrows in support of the monstrous beast as it killed and maimed any it could reach.  The Red and Gold Cloaks were fighting desperately to save their own lives now.  Their swords hacked and pierced the giant Were-Direwolf.  Eddard saw wounds appear on the monstrous body of the were-direwolf.  They would appear and heal almost instantly as the beast howled in rage.

Then after a minute he heard the howls change.  The beast in its urgency to attack had been too rash.  The wound were healing slower and now the howls were of rage and pain.  The red and gold circled the mighty wolf were attacking from all sides now.  The wounds were not healing fast now.

An ally no matter how strange was in need.

“Aarrrrrrrggggggggg!” Eddard screamed and charged forward.  So did Jaqen H’ghar and Syrio Forel.  They slammed into the desperate forces of the crown.  The were-direwolf fell back as Eddard and more knights put the survivors to rout.  The savagery of their attack was too much for them.

Eddard went before the door to open it.  It was locked.  From the inside.  He pushed hard and felt a crossbar.  Damnit!  He had not thought of that.  Winterfell did not have such large eating halls with locks on the inside.

They had time to get the door open but he hated the delay.

Then the massive were-direwolf was beside him.  Eddard had to control his natural instinct to feel outright terror at this towering monstrosity from the land of nightmares.  No.  It was his ally.  He stood and waited.  The Dire-Direwolf stared at the door and howled a mighty howl of rage.

//////////

Cersei Lannister had heard the sounds of fighting in front of the door for several minutes.  Then some ungodly howl of a monstrous beast.  Then silence.

The Hound was standing back from the door with his sword drawn.  Twenty other red cloaks were standing around with terror in their eyes.

 _What the hell was outside that damn door_!

AAARRRYYYOOOOOOO!

The door shuddered violently.  Then it shuddered mightily again.  Cersei could hear iron protesting.

AAAARRRRRYYOOOOOOO!  … … AAARRRYYOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The hinges and crossbar of the door screamed in protest and then shattered.  The right door came flying off its hinges the thick oaken crossbar splintered into small shards that whipped out. Cersei felt blood on her forehead and left cheek.

A monstrous beast strode into the room followed by knights and archers in cloaks.  Then she saw Arya Stark!

“Father!” she heard Sansa scream out.

What?!  Cersei looked everywhere.

The monstrous beast advanced on Sandor Clegane.

“Oh Hell no!  I didn’t sign up for this shit!”  He threw his sword down.  It clanged loudly on the marbled floor.  Sandor raised his hands in surrender.  The mighty beast eyed Sandor but did not attack.

“I would advise the rest of you to surrender.”

 _No_! _It could not be_! The man who spoke with Eddard Stark’s voice looked around.

“The fight is over.  I would wish to not slaughter you.”

The Red Cloaks bent down and relinquished their swords.

This man who looked nothing like Eddard Stark walked calmly forward.

“Arya!”

“Sansa!”  The two sisters ran to each other and embraced.

 _On my gods_!  He had changed his look but this was indeed Eddard Stark Cersei thought wildly!  Eddard was alive and hale.  He was not a cripple!

Cersei knew what happened when dynasties changed.  She looked over at Tommen and Myrcella.  They were calm and stoic.  She glanced at Joffrey in his ‘chair’.  He was sobbing wildly.  Stoic not so much.

Eddard advanced slowly on Cersei.  She looked at him with first incredulity and then rising terror.  Eddard raised his sword as he advanced.  He came to stand a short distance in front of Cersei Lannister.  He slowly raised his sword higher till the point of the sword was several inches in front of Cersei’s throat. 

Eddard placed the tip of the razor sharp sword to Cersei’s throat.  A trickle of blood started to run down her throat. 

The Lannister’s eyes were large with terror now.  Eddard saw the woman close her eyes and take a deep breath calming her body to not impale herself on his sword. 

She opened her eyes.  Their eyes locked.

“You should have taken my offer Cersei” Eddard told the woman softly.  His sword pressed harder into her throat.

 


	21. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN #1: This story arc is Heirs Apparent. Many want the Iron Throne. Only one may sit on it.
> 
> AN #2: I have said that i would only publish once i was finished writing the arc but that would be some time way into the future. i had started writing it but had to pull away. i discovered posting the last Insurrection chapters i had let some continuity errors creep into the second arc and will need to weed out. Also, i am adding more layers to the story and must trowel in those elements.
> 
> AN #3: I will post when i can. When i can edit and i am sure i will not want to add an element to the story. I will try to publish a chapter every month or so. Once i can write the story i can push out faster. I hope.

Heirs Apparent

Aftermath

 

Out over the thick red walls of the fortress that now belonged to him, Eddard Stark, the King of Westeros gazed down.  Eddard smirked and grimaced at the same time.  He was the first King to unite Westeros in its long history.  Well, he didn’t technically have the sworn liege of Dorne under his sway.  They always had semi independence from the Iron throne but it was close enough.  He discounted the Iron Islands.  They were always a thorn to the King of Westeros.  He would pluck that thorn in time and staunch the wound.  He had a nascent plan for that restive island nation to bring them to heel.

Eddard watched the troops of the Lannisters slowly forming their siege lines around King’s Landing.  Eddard was not concerned.  He could not say the same for his daughter on a crate beside him staring wide eyed at the forces being arrayed against them.  To her the small force before them must seem enormous.  He smiled down at his wolf daughter.  She was becoming everything that Lyanna should have become.  Thoughts of his deceased sister panged Eddard still after nearly twenty years.

 _Could I have done something for her_?  I was too blind to convention then.  I will not make the same mistakes again Eddard thought.  Eddard smiled again down at his awe struck daughter.  I have many mistakes I must not repeat the former Warden of the North mused to himself.  The forces arrayed against him were of no concern.  They were but a vanguard of roughly twelve hundred troops Eddard estimated.  Those numbers augmented with the three hundred Red Cloaks he had purged from the Red Keep and King’s Landing this morning.  They would break themselves if they hurled themselves against the thick walls of his island in the storm.

Echoes of the distasteful conversation with Varys and Syrio still echoing in his mind from this very early morn.

“I counsel that we put the Red Cloaks to the sword Eddard” Syrio had told him solemnly.  “They will be allied with the forces we know are near if we release them.”

“I concur my _King_ ” Varys intoned with an emphases on his new title.  As if he was trying to teach Eddard to fully embrace the new titular title he now wore.  “Why give our enemy more forces to contend against us?  It is the wise council.  Do not make the same mistakes again my liege.”

“No I will send them out the gate to the waiting Lannisters” Eddard replied in a strong sure voice.  He showed no reaction but he smiled seeing Varys close his eyes and sigh.  He knew the man thought, _already_ , he slips back into his old ways.  The ways of failure.

His two trusted advisors, for Eddard now trusted them implicitly, Syrio Forel and Varys.  Both men started to argue with him but he held up his hand.  He had indeed learned his lessons.  It was his confidents who needed to learn.

“I have learned my lessons.  Before I tried to negotiate and cajole from a position of weakness.  No more.  They are but three hundred men with no sapper skills.  Their added numbers mean nothing to the force I know that will be here tomorrow or soon after.  This is but a small fraction of the force necessary to assault the walls of King’s Landing.  Any assault is months away if then.  I will not kill where I do not have to.  I have six thousand gold cloaks who are more or less loyal.  I have used what little coin I have to double their salary which will buy enough loyalty.  I know only a third at best are true soldiers of skill and fortitude but that is sufficient.  Against the force that is now before us they are more than enough.”

“Syrio I want you to put the Gold Cloaks under a training regimen.  Have Arya help.  It will instill confidence and increase her practice time.  It will teach her to lead.  That is your goal is it not.”  The father must help install confidence in his warrior children.  Syrio was an excellent teacher but Eddard would help in Arya’s training when he could.

He watched the big smile come over the Braavosi’s face.  “Yes it is my liege.  She is a Water Dancer in waiting.  I will shine the diamond till it glows.  I thank you for letting your daughter become all she is meant to be.”

“Thank Lyanna.  I still owe her a debt I will never be able to repay.”  Eddard saw the confused look on Syrio’s face but understanding on Varys.  The Whisper had been busy on his research of the new King Eddard mused.  Eddard was impressed with Varys.  He truly did try to learn all facets of a person.  The better to understand their motivations.

An hour later Janos Slynt was brought before Eddard in the small counsel room he was using for such meetings.  The Gold Cloak commander stood regally before Eddard.  The man started to talk in an aggrieved haughty voice.  

“I demand to kno—urrkkkk!” Janos’s voice was cut off with the rapier point at his throat.  The former Gold Cloak commander felt the prick of razor steel at his Adam’s apple.  Syrio had been standing near Eddard but in flash he was beside Janos having drawn his rapier out like a lightning strike.  The blade at its mark before Janos even realized it had been drawn.

“You are banished from King’s Landing Janos.  I have had your quarters raided and all your possessions and gold you stole from your command confiscated.  I have distributed that to your subordinates.  They are most pleased.”

“You have no right!” the man ground out through grit teeth.

“Huummmmm … might makes right or so I am being told.  You are a disgusting human being Janos.  I bid you adieu.  May your life be short and full of strife.  You sicken me.  Syrio please escort this vermin out the gate.  If he fights you or tries to escape within King’s Landing you may kill him.”

Syrio had gleefully accepted that command.  Eddard chuckled over the pleasant memory enjoying the cool air on his face.  His mind came back to the present.  He grimaced next.  He knew what he must do.  It would be unpleasant but it must be done.  He would not shirk what he must do.

The new King looked out over his kingdom.  It was in all reality a paltry thing.  His kingdom in truth was no more than a stone’s throw from the walls of King’s Landing.  Eddard had much work to do.

The father looked down at his precious daughter staring wide eyed at the small force in front of the Lion Gate.  The line of Lannisters were thin with a small force stationed at the other gates but the main force before the traditional gate of entry when travelling down the Gold Road.  The six hundred men in phalanxes and companies did look impressive with their armor and their heraldry in all red and gold.  Impressive but toothless.  They were but a lapping wave rolling onto shore against the breakwater of the walls of King’s Landing.

“Father!  They are so many!” Arya looked up at her father with large eyes and told him the news in a breathless voice.

With a squint smile Eddard gripped his daughter’s shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze.  He saw Syrio looking at Eddard.  He tilted his head in acquiescence to his daughter’s sword master.  He needed to let the man further her learning in the ways of the sword and tactics.

“Arya do you think they are a threat to us?  Those forces you see before Lion Gate?” Syrio asked his student.

Arya to her credit looked down at the troops.  She had learned to observe and think when asked such questions.  She then looked down at the twenty foot thick walls beneath her feet of hard sandstone.  Her gaze returned to look at the troops craning her neck left and right.

“I don’t believe so master.  When I stopped and thought on it we are on the inside and they are on the outside.  We are like a turtle shell.  They have nothing to break the shell of our walls.  They cannot get inside at the tender meat.”

“Good.  Good Arya.  You analyzed the situation and the facts before you.”  Eddard watched the two walk off.  He could see that his daughter was progressing rapidly under Syrio’s tutelage.  The master swordsman not only developed his daughter’s body but her mind.  As they moved out of earshot he heard Syrio going over tactics and laying out the principles of siege warfare.

The next day two hours after sunrise he was met by Varys in his private chambers.  The Lannister commander sought a parlay under the flag of truce.  A grim look came over Eddard’s face.  He had prepared for his day.  He would do what he must.

It took him nearly an hour to leave the Red Keep and travel across King’s Landing to reach the Lion Gate on the far side of the city.  Ten minutes later the King of Westeros was on the ramparts over the Lion’s Gate that opened onto the Gold Road.  He saw that a party of ten riders had ridden forward to come before the walls of the King’s Landing.  The captain by his rank on his shoulders looked up at Eddard.  He waited for Eddard to speak.  Eddard looked down grim faced.  For five minutes no words were spoken.  The air tense with the standoff. 

Eddard waited patiently.  He had all the cards and knew it.

Arya and Syrio came up to stand beside him.  He smiled at them.  Another two minutes of silence followed.  The horses below started to get agitated with the stillness in the air.  Eddard thought sadly of all the men he had led to the slaughter.  He would … no he must avenge their sacrifice by vanquishing the Lannister Lions.

Arya had made this possible.  The Old Gods had given Eddard a second chance working through Arya.  He would not waste it.  He saw a man step his horse forward two paces separating himself slightly from the force of Lannisters.  He looked up at the people looking down at him.

“I am Branton Lannister of Lannisport.  I have come to demand your surrender and await the just judgment of a tribunal convened by Tywin Lannister.”

“What are the charges against me?”

“Treason.  Sedition.  Murder.  Grand Theft.  Spreading of vile lies concerning the lineage of the offspring of Robert Baratheon.”

“I see” Eddard called down.  “The charges are most egregious.  Let me add to them.”  Eddard turned his head slightly and nodded.  From the far end of the ramparts the four former honor guard of Rhaegar approached.  Then they stepped forward coming into view of the Lannister force below.

The loud shouts of consternation, fear and rage filled the air from down below.  The Lannister contingent appalled at what they say.   “This is perfidy.  How dare you do this to the Queen and her children!  You animal!  I order you to release them.  NOW!”

Eddard looked to either side of himself in a casual manner.

Javer Goodbrook and Styve Grandison had come up on either side of Eddard.  In their grasp was a trussed and gaged Cersei and Joffrey Baratheon.  To the right beyond the bound Joffrey was his daughter and Syrio.  Now beyond them were Matamion and Jaehaegar Velnalys who stepped into view of the Lannisters below.  The Valyrians each held one of Cersei’s younger children.  Myrcella and Tommen were staring wide eyed out over the wall down at the Lannisters below.  The children also had had their arms tied behind their back and gags stuffed into their mouths with rope around their faces to keep in place.  Each of the men of Rhaegar’s old honor guard had a hold of an arm the other hand pressed into the back of the Lannister they were controlling.

The warriors shook their hostages hard making their heads snap and teeth chatter hard.  The look of pain evident on all their faces.

The Lannister prisoners kept rigid by the strong grips on their bodies.  Eddard looked up and down the line at each of his hostages before he looked down at the party below him before the Lion Gate.  “As you can see, I have your Princess and her children.  They are my prisoners.  They are trash to me.  They soil this Great Keep.  I toy with the idea of defiling them and killing them at my leisure.  Maybe reenact the death of Elia Martell and her innocent children.  I would love to hear their screams of pain as they are raped and killed.  Maybe I should do this now” Eddard paused dramatically.  He locked eyes with the Lannister commander.  His force was agitated having drown swords and shouting up at Eddard.  Eddard smiled down at them.  “If you attack I will execute them all on this wall and throw their lifeless bodies down to you to dispose of.”

“You animal!  I order you to release them!  You have no honor” the captain of the Lannister’s shouted up to Eddard.

“That may be.  Cersei poisoned the wine of her husband.”  Unheard by the Lannisters, Cersei was chuffing into her gag and glaring daggers at Eddard.  “She attacked the hand of the King.  A capital offense.  She committed incest not once, twice but thrice.  She attempted to have my youngest daughter killed.”  More swallowed cries came from Cersei.  Her body was kept roughly in place by Javer.  “Twice she attacked heinously my second eldest son.”  More muffled screams from Cersei.  “So.  As you can see, I have many offenses for which Cersei is guilty of high treason of, to choose from.  Her sins against myself and my family are many and vile.  I have the right to kill her at any time.”

“But her children!  You coward.”

“I will remember your words as I remember looking at the broken bodies Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen the children of Elia Martell.  Three innocents killed by Lannisters.  Tell me no more of honor.  Elia was an innocent.  Cersei is nothing more than an incestuous slut who committed adultery on her king.  Again a crime punishable of death.  I have heard enough.  Be gone.  If you bore me more I may throw you down a dead body post haste.”

The force of Lannister below milled around while they talked among themselves.  Branton turned to look back up at Eddard.

“This will not be forgotten.”

“You are right Branton.  I will kill you soon enough.  I have learned my lessons well Lannister.  I will not hesitate to kill to keep my throne.  I am the greatest swordsman left in Westeros now that Barristan is banished.  His banishment by a Lannister I may add.  I will enjoy seeing the light leave your eyes as the blood gushes from your mouth and guts.”

The man started at that.  His visage seemed to pale.  He left silently.

Eddard chuckled as the man left with his companions.

“What is so funny Eddard?” Syrio asked the new King.

“I have no idea if I will ever see that man face to face.  I have beaten him without even raising a sword against him.  I hope to never have to fight the man.”

Arya started laughing.  Syrio cocked an eyebrow at Arya’s father.

“You have an evil sense of humor Eddard Stark.”

Eddard gave them a squint smile.  “Maybe.  I am planting seeds that hopefully will prevent future bloodshed.  Let’s release them” Eddard spoke nodding towards his hostages.  The four former honor guards pulled out long razor sharp daggers.  They worked the bladed weapons behind the hostages bound arms and cut the hemp ropes apart.  They also cut the silk bindings that had been wrapped around limbs to keep them from being chaffed by the rope.  Eddard removed the gags gently from each of the Lannisters.

Joffrey whimpered in fear.  Cersei’s two younger children stood still with a docile look on their faces.  They were prepared to meet their fate with a subdued resigned air.  They had seen Sansa endure the same humiliation and knew how to keep their heads down and mouths shut.  The same could not be said for their mother.  She ripped her arms down when the ropes binding her arms behind her were cut.  Her hand ripped up before Eddard could remove the silk gag.  She roughly jerked the ropes and gag away from her mouth and face.  Spitting, Cersei got them off and snarled at Eddard.

“You fucking bastard!  I should have gutted you when I had the chance!”

“Yes.  You are a murderer Cersei.  Robert Baratheon.  My son Bran.  Twice.  Jon Arryn.  How many others?”

“You fucking liar.  Robert killed himself the arrogant bastard.  Your son Bran I never wanted harmed!  I only wanted to talk to him!” Cersei nearly screamed the last part.  “I would never deliberately harm a child!”

“Please Cersei … your family has killed children before—“

“I had no part of that you bastard!  I was not even here you fucking moron!”

“No matter.  Lannister’s are murderers.  You killed Jon Arryn.”

Cersei paused, a confused look on her face.  Then anger flushed her face “I did not kill that old goat.  He probably died from old age.  He was a fucking fossil.  And Bran I admit I have that on my hands and conscious but we did not attempt a second attempt upon your son … I …” just a flick of her head she gazed at her eldest son.  Her head snapped back to glare at Eddard.  Cersei clamped her mouth shut and glared at Eddard. 

Two things Eddard had discovered from this diatribe with Cersei.  That flash on Cersei’s face about Jon Arryn was not faked.  Cersei had not killed Jon.  She also did not attempt a second murder on his son’s life but she suspected someone though.  He knew it could only be one person.  He eyed Joffrey.  The boy was shaking with fear.  Without the Iron Throne behind him Joffrey Baratheon was a spineless pathetic wannabe despot.

“What happens to us now O King?” Cersei sneered at Eddard.

“Why you go back to your quarters of course Cersei.  I think you will find them more pleasant than my guest quarters were.”

“What do you plan to do with us?  You know you will have to kill us eventually.  That is what happens when power changes Houses.  Why pretend to be something you are not?”

Eddard smiled while shaking his head.  “I feel sorry for you Cersei.  You are a vile reprehensible thing.  The banner of your house should be a scorpion and not the noble lion.  I am not going to kill you and your children.  I still have nightmares of Rhaegar’s wife and children wrapped in those blood soaked curtains.  Their bodies broken, raped and reviled.  Your house did that to them.”

A visible shake went through Cersei’s body her eyes closed.  She took a deep breath.  “Yes. That was a crime indeed Eddard.  I … I am guilty of many things but I would not have done that.  Eventually, you will have to dispose of us … you know this.  I will lay my head on the block and sign any confession you need if you will spare my children.  Please spare my children.”

Eddard was shocked at this display from Cersei.  He in a million years would never thought Cersei Lannister could be selfless.  His attitude adjusted.  However little but it had adjusted.  He showed none of this to the Lannister.  “How little you know me Cersei.  Take them back to their rooms in the Red Keep.  I think we should triple the guard.  I do not want them escaping or anything happening to them.  Javer put our best men on the guard detail if you would.  All that bluster on the wall was for show.”

Cersei as she left said with her eyes she still did not believe Eddard.  She really did not understand him Eddard thought to himself as the Lannisters were escorted away.

Arya came up to her father.  “Why all that talk father?  If you have no intention of killing them.”  Eddard stared flatly at his daughter.  “Do you?!” Arya squeaked out suddenly not so sure.

A squint smile on his face Eddard reached out and hugged his daughter while giving her instructor a wink.  A snort came from Eddard seeing Syrio look unsure.

“No Arya, I am not going to kill anyone who is helpless before me.  The Lannisters are helpless.  I am not sure still what to do with Cersei and Joffrey but I will foster Myrcella and Tommen when the time comes.  They need to get away from the influence of their parents and grandfather.  It is amazing they are still so even keeled and decent.”

“You lied to those men” Arya said in a shocked voice.

“Yes I did Arya.  This is not the first time.”  She looked at her father confused.  Eddard then explained what he had done on Robert’s deathbed.  Eddard felt comforted when Arya told him she would have down the same thing.”

“I thank you for saying that Arya.  It turned out badly.  I learned my lesson.  It was the right thing to do but the situation had become untenable.  The situation now is totally different.  Tywin most likely would not have attacked us but now he definitely won’t now.  He remembers vividly what happened here a generation ago under his command.  I was there.  He remembers my rage and hurt.  He will think I am itching to get revenge on him through perpetuating the same crime against his own scions.  He will think twice, thrice and more before attempting anything against us.”

“I learned from the situation at Robert’s death and my inaction.  This allowed Cersei to turn the tide against me.  Now I will act proactively.  I do not like this lying Arya but I will do it to preserve our lives and even the lives of our enemies.  The best fight is one avoided.”

Eddard watched his daughter absorb his words.

“Your father has the right of it Arya” Syrio added his thoughts.  “Lying is always distasteful and to be avoided if at all possible.  Never get in the habit of it.  Else, soon, you will begin to forget where the truth ends and the lies begin.  You will lose track of them and so lose track of yourself.  Only use a lie as a tactical weapon.”

Eddard watched them leave.  He continued to look out over the walls of King’s Landing.  The Lannister party had gone back to the picket line that had been established around King’s Landing.  He was not concerned at the present levels of troops.  They were spread thin and the commander of the Lannister forces knew it.

In fact, several of the Druids had slipped out last night through the tunnels that travelled underneath the walls he was currently standing on.  At night, in their dark robes they wore for stealth, they walked like shadows that had been given form.  They had finished what they had come to accomplish.  They were going home now.  Eddard wished them off with a heavy heart but did not try to persuade them to stay.  They had lives to return too and duties to the lands they loved.  He had the forces he needed to keep the Keep safe with Gold Cloaks and the forces that were slowly coming to him through the tunnels.

He looked off over the city and past Aegon’s Hill that had the Red Keep resting on it.  Only tangentially did Eddard see his new home.  He looked across Blackwater Bay, Massey’s Hook and then on past the peninsula of land and then jumped over the narrow sea to the continent of Essos.  Onwards his vision jumped across the long landmass.  The Free Cities were soon past as his vision surged across Slaver’s Bay.  Still his vision jumped forward.  Somewhere in a sweeping seas of grass or dry vistas of bone dry desert walked a teenage girl.  A girl he had saved.

The girl who was the true heir of the Iron Throne.  Eddard took a deep breath.  He felt it deep in his bones.  The girl lived.  He was sure of it.  Still he wondered.  Eddard had been sure his path before his capture by Cersei had been right and just.  That his path would lead to victory.  His arrogance brought himself down.  How could that girl survive?  The Druids had reported that Khal Drogo was dead and the he had led Khalasar had turned against the frail slip of a girl.  She had fled then.  Most probably into the Red Wastes.  None who entered that monstrous maul ever came out.  She must surely be dead now or would be soon.

It was probably for the best.  Still Eddard’s instinct gnawed at him.

The next morning Eddard was in the court yard that the royals used in the Red Keep to get the sun and relax.  Eddard was going through his sword routines working to get his body back in shape and his muscle memory sharp.  He smiled when Syrio and his daughter came out and began their Water Dancer workouts.  Syrio was barefoot as was his daughter.  In unison they rose up on one foot the ball of the foot bent at ninety degrees.  They rose up and down in perfect unison.  Then they hopped to the other foot.  They had their arms extended in perfect level plains.  Arya’s arms only jerked a little.

Intimidated, Eddard rose up on his right foot and had his foot bent like his daughter.  _Big Mistake_!  _Foot Cramp_! _Foot Cramp_!  After that Eddard kept to the exercises he was comfortable with.  He watched Syrio and Arya do flips, cartwheels and rolls.  They then picked up their practice swords.

“Right, right, left back forward forward right back left left …” Eddard was doing his own sword work routines.  He watched Syrio blocking his daughter’s attacks and launching his own.  Eddard could see that Syrio was holding back substantially but he was no longer moving at a slow clip.  His sword was fast and adroit.  Some strikes hit Arya but she blocked many of them.  Syrio was still using basic steps and not moving near his full speed but the progress Arya had made already was staggering. 

Eddard was so proud of his wolf daughter.  A cat appeared in the far corner of the courtyard.  Arya threw down her sword.  With a loud whoop she was off after the cat.  The cat seeing her coming had already tore off running like the furies of hell were after it.  Arya’s laughter gaily filled the air.  Syrio smiled before walking over to the King.

“Your daughter is a Water Dancer already Eddard Stark.  I could make you one too.  It would not take long.  Foot cramps withstanding.”

Eddard broke out laughing while Syrio grinned with a shit eating grin. 

“I mean what I say Eddard Stark.  You too are a Water Dancer that waits to blossom.  I would teach you.”

Eddard smiled back.  “Nah.  I like my broadsword too much.”

Syrio sighed good naturedly.  “More’s the pity.”

Syrio picked up Arya’s sword and moved off.  The new King continued his workouts.  He was inspired to practice that little bit more seeing his daughter progressing and knowing that Syrio Forel was his equal.  He had once thought that the broadsword was a by far superior weapon compared to a rapier.  He now knew better.  It was a little unsettling for Eddard to know that Syrio could pick up a broadsword and still defeat most opponents but if Eddard was to pick up a rapier he could only stare at the miniscule blade and think ‘I am in deep shit”.

Thrust, parry, move to the right and back … on and on Eddard practiced his sword work seeing in his mind’s eyes his opponents attacks and countering each stroke and thrust.  The hackles on the back of his neck suddenly came up.  He slowed his footwork and calmed his breathing.  He was not afraid having felt this several times since the fight to take the throne from Cersei.  Taking a calm breath Eddard turned around.

Coming into the courtyard was Merrel.  Beside the Druid who gave Eddard his health and his leg back whole was the mighty Were-Direwolf that had joined the fight in his cause in Cersei’s lair.  The mighty beast in its current form looked like the beasts that his children had.  With a few notable exceptions.  Its massive head came up to his upper chest.  The Direwolf’s coat a luxuriant dark brown with slight light brown streaks down its flanks and on its haunches.  Eddard had never seen wolf or direwolf with such striated color markings.  There were several other differences between the Were-Direwolf and the animals his children had.

This animal had more pronounced fangs and more of them that protruded up and down the lips of its snout.  The beast had a less bushy tail and its shoulders were more pronounced.  Its legs were slightly off angled compared to a wolf or direwolf.  Eddard had seen the Were morph its shape effortlessly from an animalistic wolf gait to standing and then back down within seconds during the fight that had won him the throne.

The legends of course he had heard growing up.  The Werewolf or hyena, bear or lion.  He had been scared so bad as a little kid when Nan had told him those tales.  He had grown up and stopped believing in such fanciful tales of course.  He had been rudely shown that all legends are indeed based on fact.

What he had been even more surprised of was the obvious bond between the beast and Merrel.  Eddard stopped himself.  For some reason he felt he was disrespecting the Were-Direwolf calling it a beast.  The animal was definitely intelligent and had shown great bravery coming to his aid.  It had the same affection for Merrel as his children’s Direwolves showed to them.  The Direwolves showed more loyalty than almost all humans Eddard had met.

As Eddard observed, the Were animal it brushed into the legs and hips of Merrel.  The Druid reached down and casually scratched the wolf behind the ears and along its lips.  The way the animal pushed into Merrel and shivered made Eddard feel uncomfortable.  It almost seemed they were like lovers.  Eddard shook his head at the errant thought.  There was just an air of intimacy about them that was slightly off putting.  Eddard banished such thoughts.

Merrel and this Were-Direwolf had proved loyal companions.  Their relationship was their own.  Merrel and his companion wolf came to stand before the new King.  Salutations were given and received.  Eddard felt the wolf looking at him with its golden eyes.  Its head cocked from side to side.  The wolf was inspecting him and Eddard wondered if he passed the wolf’s litmus test.

“I am going to be leaving you for a short time my King” Merrel began without preamble.

A pang shot through Eddard.  He had come to feel the Druid was a true friend.  This most have shown on his face.

“I will return soon my friend.  I need to rest and enjoy some time in my homeland at the heart of the King’s Wood.  I want to be there when I am not shattering my leg in service to you my friend.”

Eddard snorted and then smiled a squint smile.  The wolf looked at him with such intensity.  For a moment Eddard felt something.  Some thought tried to intrude upon his consciousness.  Did he know this wolf?  That was impossible and he shook his head.  The wolf seemed to only increase its inspection of him.  Was the wolf trying to give him some strange message?  Again he felt a familiarity.  Eddard shook himself mentally.  He was assigning human thought to an animal that no matter how intelligent was still an animal.  It operated off different instincts and motivations.

“I will miss you Merrel.  Your efforts saved me. Without you, Arya and Syrio, I could not have been rescued from the dungeons and then have you restore my leg.  I will forever be in your debt.”

“You owe me nothing Eddard.  Only remember the debt you owe the Land of Westeros.  The Children of the Forest.  These are great times I feel.  Meet them with honor and your greatness and all will be well.  I can feel the Queen coming.  She will be most pleased.”

Eddard felt his body jolt and a thrill run through him.  Was he talking of Daenerys Targaryen?  Did she indeed live?

“You mean Daenerys?” he asked in wonder.

The man smiled back.  “There is more than one Queen my friend.”  With that the Druid and his wolf turned and walked away.  Their bodies pressed into each other like lovers.  Eddard shook his head at the strange thoughts.  What was the word?  Yes!  Anthropomorphism.  He kept giving the wolf human traits when it was just a wolf.  A magical wolf but still just a wolf.

/////////

The small council room was silent and empty as Eddard looked around at the table. He had disbanded the Small Council as the first royal edict upon his taking the throne.  In the corners he could still hear the whispers of betrayal and malice.  A grimace worked across his features.  He had aided those whispers by ignoring wise council that had been hidden in the couched words and half innuendo.   

Just an hour ago Eddard had pronounced sentence and execution on a man who in a drunken rage had killed his wife and two children accusing her of infidelity.  She was never given a chance to raise her own defense.  Even if guilty it was not worthy of death.  The man had sobered up and first whined for mercy and his innocence.  He had disgusted Eddard.  When the man saw that Eddard was not swayed by the man’s egotistical platitudes he had grown most violent and screamed his rage and the injustice of Eddard Stark.  That he was the “fucking asshole new King”.

It had taken five men to hold him down with his head over the chopping block.  Ice had sung its song of justice and death.  His death in the Red Keep away from the public.  There would be no spectacle shows from Eddard Stark.

 _Let the hand that pronounced sentence carry out the execution_.  Eddard was weary.  He never shied away from his duty but he hated it.  Always had.  He hated it more with the recent events leading up to this moment.  He was king.  Heavy was the weight of the crown he would refuse to wear.

There was a polite knock on the door.  He had much to do.

“Come in.”

The door was opened and Varys stepped into the empty room.  His footfalls whispered in the now cavernous room.  The eunuch looked around at the empty seats.  He walked to the head of the table to stand to the side of Eddard.  Eddard looked up at the Whisperer.  Eddard slowly got up from his chair.  He turned aside and pointed at the seat.

“Take a seat Varys.”

“I would prefer to stand.  I am always ready to serve.”

“I will take that with a grain of salt Varys if you will forgive me.  I feel though our goals are much more closely aligned now.  I must insist you sit Varys.”

The man’s eyebrows squinted as he considered the insistence of his King.

“I am surprised you would make this request my King.  I must confess my past actions.  I am surprised you even want me in this room.”

Eddard looked steadily at the eunuch.  “That is the past Varys.  You have made amends.  Syrio has told me how he coerced you into his service and back into mine.  You did that well.  In fact you succeeded wonderfully.  But I vaguely remember you coming into my cell when Joffrey called for me.  You did not have to do that.  In fact if you had not the Insurrection would have probably died on that night or maybe limped along a broken thing.”

“You merely had to do nothing and you would have been free.  Instead you _chose_ to come to my aid.  At great risk you chose to put yourself in the fire for me.  In those troubled times you could have been discovered.  You made a choice.  I am in our debt.  Sit.”  Eddard pointed down at the chair he had just vacated.

“This is the chair of the Hand my liege.”

“Exactly.”

Eddard saw the man hear the words and then process the information.

Rarely did the Whisperer show surprise as he did now.  “Oh.”

“Please sit at this table as my Hand.  You are the first member of my government.  All others have been swept away.  You are the only hold over.  I need someone I can almost trust Varys.  Don’t make me regret this Varys, else, your neck will be listening to an icy tune.”

The eunuch slowly sat down and wiggled into the seat.  It was obvious he enjoyed the fit.  He turned to Eddard.

“Your poetry leaves something to be desired my liege.  Still, the words are precise and clear.  You are learning.  Justice should always be leavened with mercy but at times it must be decisive and cruel.  Do you understand that now?”

For a long time Eddard stared at the eunuch with his steady grey eyes.

“I have learned what I must.  I will not make the same mistakes again.  That you can trust.”  The Warden of the North and now King watched his Master of the hidden half-truths tilt his head in acknowledgement.

“Have you been keeping a close eye on Petyr Baelish?  I do not trust that man worth a copper pence.”

“He is watched as closely as opportunity and terrain allow.  I too know he enjoys mayhem merely for the sake of it.  He enjoys the Game of Thrones merely for the game I think.  I have goals.  You have goals.  Robert and Cersei had goals.  Maybe not in the realm’s best interest but still they had goals.  I swear that Littlefinger merely loves the game in and of itself.  Any power gained is only ancillary to the game itself.  He would never rule directly I think.  Maybe through another.  He is a most strange and complicated man.”

“I also wonder if he ever recovered from being overlooked and demeaned for not being of noble birth and not strong of arm.  He works against all who are.  Supposition I know but those are my thoughts.”

His back stiff and straight against the back of his chair Eddard listened.  Varys words were all probably true and yet it did not dispel the fact of Littlefinger’s actions.  Eddard would deal with him when the time was right.

“How is your search for a Small Council proceeding?  I do not want what I had.  I want men of talent and at least a sliver of honor.”

“Must you ask for the moon?”

Eddard chuckled.  “I have a man in mind who might make a good Master of Coin.  He is devious, conniving, selfish, deviant, cunning and filled with avarice.”

“So he is perfect for the job.”

“We will see.  I had a lot of time to think convalescing in my sick bed.  I had to time to think things through.  We shall see.”  Eddard tapped the tabletop.  “I have taken the Iron Throne.  Now I must secure it against all challengers.”

“I need you build me up dossiers on all the Great Houses and the houses underneath them.”  Varys cocked an eyebrow at Eddard.  “Yes Varys.  I know the houses and their heraldry and the Lords of the Houses.  But I need to know the people.  Their strengths and weaknesses.  Their virtues and their vices.  I want to know their rivalries between themselves.  I hate to say it but I need the smut, kink and out right avarice of each house if any.”

“As Warden of the North I did not concern myself of the idiosyncrasies of the Houses outside of my domain.  I need to know the failings of the leaders of the Houses I must deal with.  Outside of House Bolton I had no such concerns.  That is a House I will have to deal with in time.  My forbearance as King is much less than it was.”  

“I mean to use their own weaknesses against them Varys.”  Eddard looked at his first of advisors.  “I will negotiate and cajole when I can but if I must play the Game of Thrones I will.  I just hope I keep my soul in the process” Eddard told Varys in a tired and troubled tone.  Eddard knew what he had to do no matter how distasteful it might become.  The sacrifices to get to his point were too great to turn aside now.

Varys looked back at Eddard.  “You are learning Eddard.  You are learning.”


	22. Lay of the Land

Heirs Apparent

Lay of the Land

 

The two men sat at the table of the Small Council.  Their voices soft as they discussed the pressing matters of their nascent rule.  The storms gathering outside the walls of King’s Landing would begin to gather force in the near future.  For now only, the Lannisters had to be dealt with.  Soon the other houses of the South would have to be either subdued or better yet coopted into their orbit.  As of the moment, the Wolves were surrounded and the possibility of being overwhelmed definitely loomed large.

The North of Westeros was either under their sway or strangely neutral.  The Vale had partially given their support but it was fragmented.  The titular head had chosen to go against kin and fealty to hold themselves neutral.  Fortunately, this had not been absolute.  Some Houses were even now gathering with Robb.  The Riverlands and the North had gathered their main hosts and were now preparing to march down the King’s Road.  Other formations of the Tully’s had other tasks.

The Riverlands were harassing the forces of the Lannisters by either attacking them on the Gold Road as it ran near or through the territory of the Tully’s.  Additional pressure was being applied by threatening the holds of the eastern most reach of the Westerlands.  The threat of attack was drawing forces away from Tywin Lannister that he therefore could not bring to bear against King’s Landing.

The Druids had retreated from King’s Landing but they were still supporting Eddard.  They had thrown their support totally behind the new Direwolf King as they now called Eddard Stark.  The mysterious order were not attacking the Lannisters directly.  They were not even attacking with hit and run tactics.  They were using a tactic from the lands of Yi Ti.  Gorilla warfare.  Their goal to kill a few persons here and a few more there.  They attacked from the mountain sides and valleys.  Once on the grasslands and hills the Druids attacked from the hidden woods or gullies.  Their goals to sow the seeds of confusion and fear.  This slowed the advances of the advancing forces of Tywin Lannister.  His forces bled with a thousand cuts Merrel had told him.

Their ravens were allowing Eddard to keep in constant contact with not only the major holdfasts and institutions like the Citadel but forces on the move that Druids had attached themselves too.  Through some connection their ravens had with each other and their masters they were able to fly to them even on the move.  Between the ravens supplied by the Citadel and his Druids, Eddard had a communication web that had never been achieved before in Westeros. 

He was able to coordinate circles around his foes.  It was intoxicating in a way.  He had the tools.  He just needed to use them judicially.

He was using this tool to communicate with his son.  What he heard was both reassuring and distressing.  Robb was rousing the North and coordinating with the Riverlands and the Lords Declarant.   They were training up post haste and would soon begin to march south.  That was the good news.  The bad news was the lack of news on Robb’s mother.  She had left word she was going to the Eyrie.  Unfortunately, no word came from the mountain top fortress.

Where was Catelyn Stark?  Robb told his father he was searching along with the Lords of the Vale who had aligned with them to find Robb’s mother.  Eddard would have wait for word.  He could do no more.

It had been eight days since the parley at the screening wall at the Lion’s Gate.  Varys had been tasked with gathering information on the Houses that was actionable and to help Eddard begin to assemble a new Small Council.

Eddard had begun to hear supplications on the Iron Throne.  His fair pronouncements were already making the populace start to whisper that they had a true ruler.  He did not side with the rich and powerful by habit.  He listened to the merits of the case and judged fairly.  Many a rich merchant or not as powerful as he thought Lord left muttering.

Eddard was building up coin with the population.  That would make any hesitate to say anything as of yet against the new King.  Eddard knew he needed power and connections.  For now he had enough.  The world of Westeros was still wobbling on its axis with the new power dynamic that had suddenly been thrust upon it. 

Once Eddard had turned aside from the Iron Throne.  This time he had accepted its onerous weight.

“I have looked over the reports you gathered Varys.  I am impressed.”  Eddard thumbed through various parchments that lay across the table.  “The information is impressive and in depth.  I agree with most of your analysis.”  He looked at the one report that had caught his eye.  Varys had reported on _everything_.  It would seem that Oberyn and Ellaria were quite adventuresome and had quite the stamina.  He sat the report back down.  He had started to read the report till the details made him blush and caused certain issues to rise up.

He pushed the report away.  His eyes wanted to drift back to the report.  It was quite fascinating.

“How were you able to amass so much detail so quickly?  I saw the ravens flying back in yesterday and into the evening.”

Varys looked at him steadily and a slight smirk creased his features.

“I have kept all the information and gossip I have collected over the years.  Whenever new information comes in I add it to my dossiers after correlating it and deciding how best it fits.”

“I also have contacts in Highgarden and Dorne.  I think you know that Olenna Redwyne is the true power in Highgarden?”  Eddard tilted his head in acknowledgement.  “She has her own spy service.  Her confidents and spies are called ‘moths’.  In Dorne their intelligence service is controlled by Dontar Ladybright.  His spies are called ‘jackals’.  The need for information is paramount for us all.  We share data.  Of course we always scrub the information we give out and check for veracity and weed out subterfuge the information we receive in return.  We all have spies in each other’s courts that we do not work hard to weed out.  The need for information is too great.  All the spymasters know to keep the truly worthwhile information close to their hearts.  Else those hearts may cease beating.”

Varys paused and chuckled.  “We are always feeding bull crap to each other’s spies.  We always hope to have our foes believe in nothing and chasing their tales.  It is fun.”

Eddard snorted as he processed that nugget of information.  _Cross and double cross_.  Thank the old gods he had Varys for this work.  Calloused fingers riffled through the parchments on the Small Council table.  Eddard then sat back and looked up at the ceiling.  His head turned to look at the Small Council chamber door.  It was flanked by Valyrian sphinxes, their eyes of polished garnets smoldering in black marble faces.  They had the bodies of dragons and faces of beautiful women.  Eddard studied their faces seeking guidance.  They were mute.  Strange thought Eddard, why did Robert not have them removed with his obsessive hatred of all things Rhaegar.  That a visage of Valyria was allowed to stand still in this meeting place was strange to Eddard.  Shaking his head Eddard turned back to Varys.

“Have you heard back from the Citadel on the sending of a new Grand Maester Varys?”

The eunuch smiled softly.  “Yes I have.  They query as to why you request a young Maester who has just received all his links.  They reason you should want a more seasoned Maester who had learned and earned wisdom.  They also ask how they are to get the Grand Maester to you my liege?” Varys intoned with a hint of sardonic humor.

Eddard looked crossly at his Hand.  He never knew when snark would show its head with Varys.  Eddard found it endearing in a strange way.  “First, I will worry about the Citadel’s concerns when they give me some names.  Secondly, I have had enough of ‘wisdom’ with Pycelle.  I hope, though it is probably wistful, that a young Maester only embarking on his career is … I am not sure the phrase …”

“Not corrupt and jaded?”

The new king smirk grimaced.  “I would not use that phrase exactly but basically yes.  Send back that is my requirement.”

“Yes my King.”

Eddard grimaced in earnest at that.  Gods he hated the sound of that but he had better get used to it.

“How is Pycelle doing with his removal as Grand Maester?  I want the man treated well in his later years.  He will not be humiliated or kicked out of the Red Keep.  He will maintain his quarters and be allowed to continue any experiments.”  Eddard looked at Varys with direct contact.  “As long as it purely science or just killing time.  I will trust you to monitor that.  He will be treated well.  I have made myself clear on that I hope?”

With an aggrieved look the eunuch looked at Eddard.  “Yes.  He deserves a fate much worse but I accede to your wishes.  He _is_ quite harmless I must admit.  I must say he is doing rather well.  He is most thankful for you letting him keep his quarters and having the serving staff continue to call him Grand Maester.  He speaks only highly of you.”  Eddard rolled his eyes remembering the man’s past slights.  It did not matter.  Eddard had won.

“It is a small thing Varys.  Maybe he will prove of use someday.”

The Whisperer tilted his head in acknowledgement though how that could be he had no idea.

“Our dear Pycelle is even more relieved and downright ecstatic that you have allowed him to keep Alssa Stewar as his personal attendant.  She is actually quite fond of the man if not outright in love with him.  I guess I can see it.  He treats her gentle and is constantly cooing over her.  He is using that additional twenty gold dragon monthly stipend you have allowed him to buy her nice clothes, the best of cuisine and taking her to the opera and plays.  All this spending of your generous stipend to Pycelle is helping many vendors I must concede.”

“Well I’ll be damned” Eddard softly spoke to himself.  “I didn’t think he had it in him.”  A question hit him.  The girl was quite comely.  “Ahhh … ahem … how does the girl satisfy her more-ummmm … you see … welllll—“

“Sexual needs?”

“YES!  That was what I was about to say.”  Eddard cursed the blood and heat rising to his face in embarrassment.

“I see.  Actually, Pycelle is a Grand Maester of many years.  Those vows are for shit by the way.  All know that.  He has much experience in the boudoir I must say.  For a man of his age he is amazingly spry.  He is patient and attentive to Alssa.  He kisses her silly, then works her breast like a maestro making her cry out in ecstasy.”

Eddard stared at his Hand.  _What was he doing_? Eddard wondered.

“He is a patient man and Alssa is most ravenous for our Grand Maester.  She wallows all over him with her twenty year old body.  She sucks him off as long as it takes to get him hard.  She then mounts our old stallion and rides him like her life depends on.  She fucks him with all her holes if you know what I mean.  She is quite the screamer I am told.

Eddard was squirming.  _He didn’t need to hear this_!

“It is amazing how often he can get it up in a night and how gladly Alssa is to do what she must to get him hard for her yet again.”

Eddard mouth was hanging open.  Whether in shock or awe Varys was not sure.

“Of course the man is a demon with his mouth.  I think the girl is addicted to his mouth and tongue licking her pussy and drilling her spamsing asshole.  His technique is quite exquisite I think.  I have read the Karma Sutra from Yi Ti.  I think our Pycelle must have read it too.  He has this habit of swallowing Alssa’s upper cunt and butterfly stroking it with his tongue my sparrows report; the way his cheeks are working.  Then he lifts his head and extends his tongue and folds it back along his chin and roughly tongue licks Alssa’s jutting up clit—“

“ENOUGH!”

“But my liege—these tips might help you in the bedroom—“

“I think I have a handle on that Varys” the eunuch watched his liege squirm in his seat.  Not having balls was a help sometimes.  “Lets discuss me securing my realm so Pycelle can continue his nocturnal practices” Eddard continued nervously moving around the parchments in front of him.

“Oh I assure they are also doing it in the daytime.  In fact—“

“Okay!  I get the message.  My realm—please!”

The Whisperer chuckled.  Eddard was learning and learning fast but on some things he was too easy.

For the next fifteen minutes Eddard went over the notes that Varys had compiled over the years.  Eddard was impressed with just how much the eunuch had been tracking and recording over the reigns of the kings he had served.  The dossiers he had created for the Major Houses of Westeros.  They looked over the parchments that had come back from the Masters of Moths and Jackals.  They confirmed what Eddard had already assumed.  He knew his fellow Wardens.  He had known many things but had never worried over them.  The North consumed his attention but that was no more.

“So what are you plans my liege?”  Varys watched Eddard looking at him.  Eddard kept his face neutral but he knew that the man was debating with how much to tell him.  Varys was patient.

In a minute his patience was rewarded.

“I am going to trust you Varys.  You have proven yourself.  You have nothing to gain by working to get to this point to only squander your new raised position.  You know that any possible successor will be much worse than me.  I want what is best for the realm.  The whole realm.  Not only the rich and powerful but the low and common man.  I could care less for power or riches.  Robert Baratheon lived enough gluttony for several life times of any kings.  Cersei only added to it.”

“I agree Eddard Stark of the North.  I have waited a lifetime to finally have someone worth serving.  You have my totally allegiance.  Even though I know you will always wonder of my veracity.”

“Yes.  I learned that lesson from Littlefinger.  In fact I will be dealing with that distasteful situation shortly.”

“I can’t wait to see that Eddard.  I do not like Littlefinger.  He serves only himself.”

“That is his tragic flaw and your saving grace.  You wish to serve others.”

“You are correct my King.”

“You can call me by name you know Varys.  Out before my subjects you should use my honorific but when it is just us and other close confidents you are allowed to use my name.”

Eddard watched the eunuch process that.

“I see.  I will try Eddard” Varys spoke but his name sounded slurred in the eunuch’s mouth.  It would take him some time to get used to that familiarity. 

For the next half hour the two men went over the ideas that Eddard Stark had developed to secure the realm under his rule and squash any and all potential challengers.  Varys mainly listened to his King’s schemes and machinations with only short comments to make sure he understood and to help his liege focus on a specific element of his plans when needed.

With a low whistle the eunuch sat back.  His eyes bored into the King’s visage.  “I must ask my lieg … Eddard.  Where was this acumen for the Game of Thrones when you sat in this chair?  It was not evident.  I searched diligently for it and it was never found.  I frankly must tell you that I am very impressed.”

Eddard closed his eyes and grimaced.  He then slowly opened his eyes to look at Varys.

“I did not think along these lines before Varys.  I let my code of honor bind me.  I ignored the reality around me.  I refused to listen to any council that did not adhere to how I wanted to see the world.  And yes, Varys, you tried to warn me.”  Eddard snorted.  “Renly Stannis and even Petyr Baelish in his way tried to warn me.  I was the Hand of the King and limited my worldview if you would.  I was just so sure that by following my code of ethics and honor I would succeed.  As we all saw; I did not.  Your attempts to warn me I remember Varys.  You did try and convince me that I had to act. I did not listen to you at great cost to me.”

The eunuch did not answer.  He had nothing to add.  He decide to move the conversation forward on Eddard’s plans to secure the Iron Throne.

“Do you think you can truly make all this occur my—Eddard?  You have many strands of thread to weave together to make all this come to pass.  You will need to be like my namesake.  The spider.  You will need eight arms to make this happen.  Each arm tapping a thread of the web to entice and entrap your potential foes.”

An eyebrow was quirked at Varys metaphor.  The man before Varys looked at his own shoulders as if to make sure extra pairs of arms had not suddenly started to sprout.  It seemed Eddard had a sense of humor after all.

“No, I don’t think so my Hand.  Two arms will be sufficient.  I will merely have to be patient.  I will take the time I must to weave the tapestry.  I will work each House to where I need them to be to work my will.  I have read your notes and observations.  Your fellow Whisperers have added to them.  They only reinforce what I know of the players on the Crevasse board.  Together we will knock over each piece of our opponents on the board one by one.  In the end they will be defeated by my white Queen”

“You are that confident?”

“Yes I am Varys.  I am taking the same confidence I have on the combat field and bringing it here onto this plain of combat.  There are no swords, battle axes or warhammers on this field of battle but the precepts and concepts are the same.  To attack and overwhelm your enemy.  To find weakness and exploit till victory is achieved.  All of my potential foes have this weaknesses and failings.  I will exploit them.”

“I have my sanctuary here behind these city walls.  My son will arrive with sufficient force to block the Lannisters from laying siege.  My brother-in-law is sapping Tywin’s strength as we speak.  The Druids each day sap one more drop of blood, energy, confidence and will from Lannisters.  No.  I will be safe in King’s Landing till I am ready to spring my trap.”

“The Westerlands are a mighty force Eddard.  Only Highgarden has the raw numbers to contend with them.”

“That is on an open field of battle Varys.  Tywin’s goal will be to attack and break the defense of King’s Landing.  He will be static.  My son will decimate him between the anvil of King’s Landing and the Straight Peen Hammer of the Blacksmith.  The Vale will come with sufficient force to augment Robb.  I will be able to peel away enough Houses from the Crown and Stormlands to add to this force.  No Tywin will not attack me.”

“Tywin is cunning and crafty.  Also, remember Varys, he wants the safety of his daughter and his grandchildren.  He has that much decency in that dissipated soul.  No.  He will eschew a direct attack.  His actions in Robert’s Rebellion showed that.  We will be safe in our sanctuary.”

Varys nodded in agreement.  They had discussed this without detail in their review earlier.  Hearing his King’s thinking made the Whisperer feel better.  Eddard did have a sharp tactical mind.  His boldness though was disconcerting.

“With our sanctuary you intend to invite the enemy into our sanctuary.  Is that wise?”  Varys felt a trill of fear run through his body.  He had had enough of the thrill of combat to last a lifetime.

Eddard shook his head.  “Varys you are not looking at the situation correctly.  Think of it like this.  We need to draw them in to trap them in the web we are currently weaving to entrap them.  They most come to us so their limbs will become entrapped in our sticky silk lines.  Only then can we wrap them with our spinnerets.  Only then can we entrap them to work our will on them Varys.  It will work.  I know it.  Trust me.”

What Varys found surprising was the fact that he did trust Eddard Stark.  He had spoken nothing but the truth.  He said he would learn from his past mistakes.  The man was proving he was speaking words of truth.  Eddard had almost overnight become a master of the Game of Thrones.  It was frightening in a way.

“Once they are in our web I will maneuver each in turn to overcome or subvert to my will.”

“Are you that sure?”

“I have to be.  I must have absolute confidence.  I will work each foe to the only outcome possible is my victory.”

“I will use the Baratheon brother’s arrogance and sense of destiny.  Stannis will seek to contend because he is stiff and unimaginative.  His brother was king and thus he must be next in line.  He forgets Robert was not King till Rhaegar was killed along with Aerys II his father.   I have usurped Robert and Joffrey and, therefore, the Iron Throne runs through me now.  He will move and act in a wooden manner.  He will be easy.  So will Renly.  He is only half as good as he thinks he is.  He is tall, good looking, strong and full of verve.  He has all the skills to potentially be a great king but he does not have the heart.  He has not applied himself and moved beyond his very basic skill sets.”

“He has Loras Tyrell as his lover so I must tread carefully there but I will navigate that maze of thrones when the time comes.  I will challenge them when the time is right.  A rose will be clipped and a buck shorn of his horns.  I will do that at the same time if I can work it.”

“As you confirmed to me, Olenna Tyrell is the true force that controls Highgarden.  Mace is manipulated to do her bidding.  You tell me that Margaery is being groomed to take the levers of power when the time comes.  That is good.  You tell me Margaery is capable and cunning.  That is good.  I will use that too.”

“Highgarden is always the maiden that all seek to woe with an extravagant dowry.  I have the best bauble to offer.  I will coopt them to my orbit.  Olenna will like what I have to say.”

“The Storm and Crownloads have no great love for the Baratheon brothers.  The support I have already garnered with elements of Rhaegar’s honor guard already in my service is leading more Houses to cast their lot to me.  The Baratheon brothers will not have the might to contend on the battlefield.  They will have to challenge me when the time comes.  I will be ready.”

“That leaves Dorne.  I know what they want.  They want revenge.  Doran has been moving pawns around on the Crevasse board for nearly twenty years.  I will move my Queen to a commanding position.  I will give him the revenge he has sought for going on twenty years now.  Oberyn will seal it.”

Eddard stopped.  He looked at Varys.

The two men looked at each other.  Varys smiled.  “I agree with your assessments and you have shown me your plans.  I hope you are right.  You have made many assumptions and calls on character.”

“I am right Varys.  Trust me.  I will not make the same mistakes again.  It is I who will be white on the Crevasse board.  Everyone will react to my moves this time.”

Varys considered this.  “How will you prove that Cersei’s children are not Baratheon’s if it comes down to it?  If Tywin convinces everyone they are legitimate?”

The eunuch saw Eddard laugh softly his eyes in a squint smile.  He got up from his chair and walked to a side table.  There he picked up a heavy looking tome and brought it to the main table of the Small Council.  He sat the book down on the table with a thump that echoed in the empty room.

“I will do what I should have done last time this situation arose.  I will call all before me and have all the High Lords around me.  Especially Tywin.”

“I will call out in a strong voice ‘The seed is strong.’  You have found all the bastards of Robert living in King’s Landing.  We know of Edric and Mya in Dragonstone and the Vale.  I will call them into the Throne Room.  I will repeat the call ‘The seed is strong.’”

I will remark that every Baratheon has black hair and blue eyes, including every one of Robert's bastards.  I will show them to the Lords.  All of his children look like him.  Some Baratheons take on other attributes of their families.  Shireen has her mother’s ears, but the hair and eyes are absolute.  If a Baratheon marries a woman or man of fair complexion the children will always have black hair and blue eyes.”

“I will then open this tome and start to read.”  Eddard traced a bookmark and pulled on it to get his fingers in between the pages of the book.  Varys saw that the name of the book was a genealogy book entitled (The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, With Descriptions of Many High Lords and Noble Ladies and Their Children).  Eddard started to read of each wedding between Baratheon and Lannister.  Varys immediately saw that every time a Baratheon produced a child, specifically with someone with blonde hair, the child still had black hair.  He then told Varys that Gendry's mother was a blonde, as was Barra's mother, and yet they both had the Baratheon look.”

“I will then bring out Cersei’s three children.  I will have Jamie in my clutches by then.  I will line them up.  It will show the truth.  I hope Tywin does not force my hand in this.”

“I have no plans to execute Cersei or her children.  If the issue is forced in the open and rubbed in all the Lords and the Septons of the church faces it will complicate matters.  I had enough of that crime with Ellia and her children’s death.  The death of Arthur Dayne by my hand.  Lyanna’s needless death.   If she had had a midwife she would have lived …” choked up Eddard started to cry.  Varys was shocked at the sudden display of emotion by this seemingly always in control man. 

Varys watched the man’s body wracked with sobs.  For a minute the man wept but then he reasserted his self-control and his sobs and tears began to slow.  Eddard took several deep breaths and then was ready to proceed.  At first his voice slightly shaky.

“I still see Lyanna in her bed of blood and the broken bodies of Rhaegar’s wife and children.  I will become a whirlwind of death to not let that happen again while I am king.” 

The look that had come over Eddard’s face made the Whisperer take a step back.  Varys knew in that moment he would never again betray Eddard Stark.  The man turned his back to Varys for several minutes.  Slowly the new King controlled his emotions the rest of the way back to his normal taciturn self.  When he turned around the storm had passed.

“I will never allow again innocents and maybe not so innocents to be killed by those who are no better than the people they are passing execution on.”

There was a knock on the door.  “That cannot be said about the person who is about to enter this room.”

The door was opened.  Flanked by Matamion and Jaehaegar Velnalys Littlefinger was escorted into the room.  The man had his buttoned coat and vest on that were immaculately pressed.  He had his mockingbird sigil on his left breast pocket.  The familiar smirk was on his face.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting my King?” Petyr Baelish asked.  His voice just his side of insolent leavened with a sardonic subtonic.  

Varys observed Eddard stare at the man flatly.  His look told you nothing.  Eddard was a taciturn man but it had been easy for the eunuch to read his face.  No more.  In the Game of Thrones you never reveled more than you had too.  Indeed, Varys thought, the new King had learned his lessons.

“You are a liar and betrayer Petyr Baelish.  Your actions would have led to my death if not for the heroic actions of my daughter and Syrio Forel.  With the efforts of men like those who are flanking you Master of Coins.”

Littlefinger started to speak.

With a sudden start Eddard stood up.  He pulled the broadsword out its scabbard that was on his back.  In a flash Eddard had moved forward his broadsword before him.

“Shut up Baelish!  You are a traitor.  Your actions are those of a rat and cockroach.  Always scurrying around in the dark fearing the light.  You betrayed me.”

“I see another traitor sitting in the chair of the Hand I do believe” Petyr spoke in a sardonic tone.

Varys admired Littlefinger’s control in this crisis.

“Yes, you are right.  But this man then in turn again and again helped to right his wrong.  You merely stood around and smirked.  You have smirked since I took the throne.  I have had you watched.  You disgust time.  Let’s see how that smirk looks in the dark.  To the dungeons with you Petyr.”

With that, the two Valyrian warriors gripped Petyr Baelish roughly by the arms and the spluttering man was dragged from the room.  The look of surprise written all over his face.  The door was closed.

The Hand turned to the King as he approached his chair.  “I must confess that was most satisfying.  What do you propose to do with him?”

“I am not sure.  He will be in the dungeon but will be treated well.  I am not a tyrant or despot.  He may yet prove useful though I doubt it.  You have truly proven yourself.  I know Petyr never will but still.  I may find a use for him.  We shall see.”

The both turned to look at the door when there was a knock on it.  The two men looked at each other.  Javer Goodbrook and Styve Grandison were posted as guards outside so they had no fear of attack.

“Enter” Eddard commanded softly.

The door opened and in stepped the Faceless Man Jaqen H’ghar.  Eddard saw Varys tense for a moment before willing himself to relax.  His Hand was definitely afraid of the assassin.  He supposed he should be.  Eddard himself felt unease being in the presence of this man.  He was walking death.  The fact that the man had sworn allegiance to his daughter still did not dispel the unease that all felt towards the man when he was in their presence.

The man came to stand at attention before the two men.  Eddard and Varys sat down and the two of them calmly waited for the Faceless Man to announce his intentions.

After a moment the man tilted his head fractionally.  Without preamble Jaqen spoke.

“I have another duty I must perform.  You have changed destiny.  I will be leaving immediately.”

Looking at the Faceless Man Eddard grimaced.  “Must you leave?  Your sword and skills are valuable.  I would hate to lose you but you have earned the right to leave my service.”

“It is precisely that I am in your _daughter’s_ service that I must leave” the Faceless Man corrected Eddard.  “I was sent to Westeros to prepare for the destruction of the dragons of the new born Dragon Lord.  Their birth has been foreseen.  I have determined that the threat is much reduced.  In fact I see a renaissance is possible.  The Dragon and Wolf can indeed lie together.”  The man paused and looked steadily at Eddard.  “If you allow it.  Though it may be beyond your control by now.  Will you accept the will of the fates and the gods who may not exist?”

Varys turned to watch Eddard.  He was not sure why everyone kept talking about House Stark and Targaryen forming a union.  There had been so much bad blood between the two houses.  He supposed Robb would make a good prospect if Daenerys was even alive.

Eddard rapped his fingers on the table several times.  With a sigh and a wry smile Eddard spoke “I do believe that I will.  I will not oppose it if comes to pass.  If my Direwolf tames the Dragon and vice versa then I will not only accept it but laud the union.  If it comes to pass.  Most likely the girl will die in the desert.  She is a frail thing by all accounts and weak of will.  Still, if she lives I will deal with her.  I am King but I am open to persuasion.”

“I can ask for no more.  I will leave now.”

“Can I ask where you go?” Eddard asked the assassin.  “I will understand if you do not.  You probably do not fully trust me.  The reputation of your order proceeds you.”

The faceless man’s lips twitched.  Varys wondered if Jaqen had almost smiled.  “There are many myths concerning us.  We have worked hard to create them.  I go to the Citadel.  We and forces in Essos fear the return of any Dragon Lord.  I feel that fear is baseless.  As long as the wolf and dragon become one.  I believe they will.  The red comet cements it.  I go to undo what I had started.  It will be difficult but I will succeed.”

“Go in peace my friend” Eddard to Jaqen.

“We do not have friends.”

“Still, you have one.  Go.  I trust you will do the right thing.  You are an honorable man.”

Jaqen H’ghar stared at Eddard with a strange look.  He started to speak but decided at the last moment not to.  He tilted his head.

Eddard tilted his head in return.  With a sharp turn on his heel Jaqen H’ghar left the room.

“Not much for conversation it would seem” Varys spoke out loud.

Eddard had to agree.

//////////

Eddard moved slowly down the hall of the Red Keep.  He was still fascinated looking at the tapestries and stands displaying armor and implements of war.  He had the same in Winterfell so having something new to observe and think on was a pleasant diversion.

He came to a door.  He knew who were on the other side.  He knocked politely on the door and was told to enter.

He entered and was greeted by his daughter who came to her father to hug him.  Syrio greeted him as he stood beside a table that dominated the center of the room.  Father and daughter walked to the table.  On it was a map of the Riverlands.  Syrio had put wooden tiles on the map representing opposing army forces of foot soldiers, pike men, archers and cavalry both light and armored. 

Eddard sat silently on the table as Syrio moved his forces and Arya had to make her moves against his forces.  Eddard was happy with what his saw.  Arya had an aptitude for strategic thinking.  She moved her force in the correct manner to not only block Syrio’s movements but put him on the defensive.  Only once did Eddard get his daughter’s attention to think on a move she was about to make.

Arya then pondered and took her father’s hint and then made the correct counter move.  Syrio nodded at Eddard with a smile over Arya’s head as she bent down to make her new move.

The growth in his daughter pleased Eddard.  Her mind was growing fast.  Her body was as well.  She was no longer a novice with the sword.  Arya was beginning to learn to muscle memory how to be a warrior.  Her steps were becoming precise and strong.  Syrio was a great teacher.

They in turn were training the Goldcloaks.  It was definitely a work in progress.  Syrio led but Arya reinforced and was quick to show the weaker men how to hold their sword and the proper foot work.  Again Eddard was so proud of his daughter.

His daughter was leading the training of all the Goldcloaks in archery.  They had employed a group of fletchers in the making of arrows all day every day.  The bow and arrow could be a great equalizer.   Eddard himself was taking lessons from Arya in archery as he took time when he could to teach his daughter the Westerosi way of the sword.  Syrio was her teacher but he enjoyed the exercise and bonding sword training allowed father and daughter to bond even more.

Eddard left the room.  His heart filled with pride.  He moved down another passageway.  His heart now not so filled with pride and love with what he saw.

He looked down the hall and saw Sansa approaching.  She was on the far side of the hall with her head lowered and taking small steps.  Her shoulders were quivering and Eddard saw tears running down his cheeks.

He felt a pang of guilt run through him but it was subsumed by his anger.  His eldest daughter had betrayed him and it would have led to his death if his youngest daughter had not stepped in to redeem his life.  He still thought with incredulity on how Sansa had been so naïve and outright stupid to tell Cersei his plans.  It had simply never occurred to the father that the daughter could betray him.  His world was still rocked by that revelation.

Eddard stilled his walk.  He saw his daughter sobbing as she approached.  There was no sounds but her shoulders shook and tears ran down her cheeks her head lowered.  Eddard felt his natural instinct to go to Sansa and comfort her surge in his veins but he fought it down.  This woman, his daughter, had betrayed him.  He could no longer trust her and for Eddard that was everything.  Varys had redeemed himself; Sansa had not.

Eddard paused at that thought.  He had been given a second chance.  What chance had Sansa been given?  Still he was not ready for that.  He now realized he had much to think on.  He felt his anger rising.  Yes, he still had much to process.  He could not talk to his eldest daughter at this moment.  He may regret what he might say.  His family was supposed to be beyond reproach.  He was ready to give his all for his wife and children and to have that thrown back in his face was galling.

Like a statue Eddard watched his daughter come down the hall towards him.  She was almost upon him across the hall.  Her shoulder brushing the far wall to keep her distance from her father.  Sansa could feel the ire radiating off her father.  Her courage rose for a moment.  She lifted her head to glance at her father.  What she saw made her head lower and she sobbed as she walked faster to pass her father.  Now her sobs escaped her throat.

Eddard closed his eyes and shivered.  His anger overcame his compassion.  He walked down the hall.  He had someone to meet.  His conscious whispered to him.  He shook his head to ignore the small voices clawing for his attention.  He moved down the halls and up the stairs.  Five minutes later he was at the door of his destination.  He knocked on the thick wooden doors.  The two guards stood at rigid attention.  He may as well face another unpleasant situation. 

“Why do you knock damnit?  I know it is you Eddard.  You won.  I lost.”

“How do you know it is I Cersei?”

“Who else would it be?  Only you actually knock and politely wait for my permission to enter.  It is so noble it is _sickening_!” Cersei ended her rant with a shout.

“Can I come in please Cersei?”

The King heard the sounds of exasperation on the other side of the door.  It was ripped open.  A furious Cersei stood before him.  She was in a beautiful gown that showed her beautiful body off.  Her long blond hair immaculately combed out and radiant.  Too bad she was such a bitch.  Even if he would not say the word he could think it.  He entered the liar of the fallen lioness of Lannister.

The door was flung back to slam against the doorway as it rattled in its frame.  Green eyes were filled with fire.  Eddard walked further into the room.

“Damnit!  This false courtesy is maddening.  Execute me and have done with it.  Right the scales of justice for Elia and her children.  Just spare me all this false bullshit.  The scales of justice must be balanced.  I accept my fate damnit.  I just ask once more to spare my children.  I will sign anything.  I will make any confession to have my children spared.”

The pronouncement from his beaten nemesis touched Eddard though he would not show it.  Cersei’s nobility quickly fled.

“I need wine damnit!  I am going crazy in here”.  Her hands were shaking Eddard observed.

“How long have you drank to excess?” he asked softly.

“I only drink to calm my nerves and to relax!”

“You must have been pretty relaxed all the time.”

Cersei knew it was an insult.  Not stated as such but an insult.  She fumed stomping away to march around her room.  Back and forth she stormed like the proverbial caged lioness.

“Again I ask when you will execute me.  I have a right to know.”  Cersei glared at him.  Eddard had to admire her bravery.

“Never.”

“Liar.”

“As you wish.”

“Arrrrgghhhhh!”  Cersei threw her arms up and then down.  She calmed down.

“You know my father will fight you bitterly to put down the truth of my children.  He will then take me back to Casterly Rock and kill me silently.  Of course with Jamie he will figure out how to have his sins expunged.  It is always the women who take the fall isn’t it Eddard.”

“I agree.”

Eddard saw shock on her face. 

“I am ready for your father Cersei.  You will not have to return with him if you do not want to.  If what happens as it seems is prophesied to happen I will have a mission for you.  You will have my royal protection.”

The fallen Lannister snorted.  Then she looked at him with an appraising look.

“You have grown Warden of the North.  You know I still wonder sometimes how I would have turned out if you had taken the Iron Throne instead of Robert during his Rebellion.  Maybe married me instead of Catelyn or both of us.  Hell it is the Targaryen way.  To have an ideal to strive towards instead of flawed imperfections.”  Eddard watched a faraway look come over Cersei’s face.

In a moment it was gone.  “I need wine damnit!”

“I think not.  Dry out Cersei.  We will talk more.”  With that he left his fallen nemesis.

He heard her curses through the door.  They were most inventive.


	23. Sibling Dynamics

Heirs Apparent

Sibling Dynamics

 

With slow deliberate movements the needle worked into the fabric.  The needle puncturing the lace substrate pulling the fine red thread through the fabric.  Then with complicated patterns the thread was folded, looped back and intertwined with deft movements of the needle.  Only then was the thread looped back into the fabric.  This was only done when the knot of thread assumed the right shape and size.  Then the knot was pulled securely into the fabric to make the next stitch.  The knot secured from the backside.  Only then was the thread carefully cut.  Finished, the needle was strung up with another thread of red.  The young princess eyed the fabric and pushed the needle through the white fabric to begin the next knot.

She was taking a break from reading of the governing precepts and philosophies of the great Rhoynar leader, Nymeria, who landed in Dorne a thousand years past.  Myrcella had always been fascinated with Dorne and the proud if slightly queer people.  They were so willful and willing to seek out what they desired.  They were not staid and stifled.  Myrcella smiled stifling her own sigh.

That was part of her mother’s problem Myrcella mused again.  She had been stifled since she was young.  Her daughter had come to see that of late.  Especially since the Insurrection.  The young princess had no desire to be anything more than the demure princess.  To be swept off her feet and made a bride.  She was like Sansa in that.  _Well not exactly_.  She smiled softly again.  Her mother had too much of the lion’s spirit in her for that desire.  The stifling of her true desires and wants had begun to unhinge her mother Myrcella had determined.

She shook her head.  She had no answers for her mother.  She doubted she had answers for herself in her current situation.

She looked over at her younger brother.  He was reading some tome from Braavos on philosophy and playing with his kittens.  Innocence.  It must be nice.  She looked back at her needlework.

Slowly the flower was taking beautiful shape.  The blue petals had slowly sprung to life like new shoots from a seed bursting through the ground at the birth of spring.  Each petal an exquisite work of art.  The flower had eight petals and the princess had done each petal so that it seemed it was alive.  Now she was doing the pistil of the flower.  The red and soon yellow setting off the blue petals.

Myrcella lifted up her work and eyed it critically.  She took her time to make sure each detail was correctly done.  Sansa had helped her immensely with her crewel needle work.  Crewel allowed one to put depth to your stitch work.  She loved how it gave each knot whatever quality she desired.  Sansa also had an artist eye.  She had used charcoal to sketch out the pattern of the flower bouquet she was slowly bringing to life.

Sansa had become listless of late.  Myrcella put her work down.  Sansa had been fearing for her life with Myrcella’s mother. Now that Sansa’s father had assumed the throne throwing down her House, Sansa had become sad and despondent.  Eddard was a stern man.  He had heard how Sansa had gone to Cersei, her mother, and confessed his plans to leave King’s Landing and head back to Winterfell.  Of course he had also planned to tell the truth of Myrcella and her siblings’ true heritage.  A truth that would have imperiled the life of her and her siblings along with her mother … and her uncle—no no … her father.”

The beautiful young blond princess was still having a hard time wrapping her mind around that revelation.  The man she had thought of as just a “nice man” was actually her father.  Jamie Lannister, of the Kings Guard had lain with his sister to conceive her mother’s three children.

Jamie was always nice if aloof.  How could he not claim Myrcella and her brothers as his! The princess had wondered many times since the revelation.  Myrcella was in turns upset, angry, spiteful and filled with a sense of having no worth.  How could Jaime not claim her and how could her mother lie to her so.

Myrcella looked down the table at her younger brother.  He was playing with this four cats.  The spoiled felines draped all around him as he read.  Buttercup the yellow tabby was resting on his shoulder his body hanging down the front of Tommen’s body.  His front legs and head on Tommen’s shoulder.  He mowed in protest whenever Tommen stopped petting him.  Sugar Cube was curled up on Tommen’s lap sleeping her whiskers twitching and legs running chasing a rabbit most probably.  Princess was on the table draped over two of Tommen’s books.

Myrcella smiled at Tommen.  He was so patient with his cats.  He had tried to shoo the female cat off his books but she had lifted her head indulgently at him and meowed in protest and swatted at his hand playfully.  Tommen had then moved to his third book.  His last cat, a calico named Jester, was curled up on some towels Tommen had put on the table knowing the cat liked her bed to be ready for her.  She was snoring her nose twitching and whiskers wiggling cutely.

Pyrcella had given Tommen books on algebra and trigonometry.  The strange symbols and letters in straight lines all jumbled on the page was confusing to the thirteen almost fourteen year old princess.  Her twelve year old brother understood it though.  Pycella had been most pleased when Tommen immediately picked up on the “math”.  Tommen was looking at the real world and developing equations to solve the questions he saw.

He was quite amazing.  She eyed her brother.  Knowing the truth of her heritage had opened her eyes to possibilities she had not even conceived of.  If Tommen had been born Tommashina then she would have been interested in him.  Myrcella looked away.  She felt a rising desperation springing forth in her soul.  It was only a summer storm now but she feared it would turn into the Northeasters that sometimes blew in to batter the Red Keep.

Myrcella had dreaded her flowering.  Soon she would be handed out like a heifer to some High Lord.  She would be forced to marry a man she could never love.  She had told no one but on the day of her wedding she would caste herself off the walls of the Red Keep to her death.  Better that than living a hideous lie.  She could never lie with a man and consider it anything but rape.  She had seen her mother after lying with her supposed father.  The bruises.  Not always there but enough. 

The man she would be forced to marry may be loving and kind but it would not matter.  For Myrcella it would be rape ever night.  That would be what it would be every night for the young princess.  Desperation was forming in her soul.  She could not help but be attracted to whom she was attracted to.  Yes, life was not fair indeed.

She had hoped that maybe she and Sansa could form some union but that was dead dust now.

The door opened.  Joffrey stepped in with Jaehaegar Velnalys close behind.  Joffrey no longer walked around with a regal air.  He now walked with his head constantly jerking to look around with eyes filled with fear.  His body seemed to have fallen in on itself.  He looked at the tall Valyrian.

“I am still here weasel.  We know what you are.  Soon—soon I will have the pleasure of cleaving your head from your shoulders.  You will try something and I will be ready.”

“I do not harbor any ill thoughts!” Joffrey exclaimed.

Myrcella and Tommen stopped what they were doing to watch the dynamic.  Joffrey had fallen far Myrcella observed.

“You will.  It is the nature of a rat.  To strive beyond your station.”

“I do not!  I am just a hostage like my sister and brother!”

“Your sister and brother are sweet and kind.  You are vile and loathsome thing. You will rise like a serpent to strike when no one is looking.”

“Enouh Jaehaegar …” was softly intoned from the doorway.  Myrcella looked there and saw the stern but sad visage of Eddard Stark.  “I do not think Joffrey is so much of a threat anymore.”

“He is Cersei Lannister’s illegitimate spawn.  He is evil as she is!”

“Is she? … We shall see.  If Joffrey is vile spawn then so are Myrcella and Tommen going by your logic” Eddard spoke softly.

The Valyrian sputtered and then looked at Eddard with an angry look.  “That is not fair.  Myrcella and Tommen and good and decent children.”

“How is this possible with the logic you use to describe Joffrey?”

Jaehaegar threw up his arms in consternation.

“I will let Joffrey stay for a while Jaehaegar if he chooses to.”  Eddard looked at Joffrey.  To Myrcella’s surprise she saw no anger or rancor only sadness in the new King’s face.

Joffrey fled the room with Jaehaegar following.

“Be easy on him Jaehaegar.  He is miserable enough.  He is a small thing without the Iron Throne.  I pity him.”

The man snorted as he walked through the door.  He paused.  “You know Joffrey would have killed you Eddard.”

“I know” he answered softly.  “I won.  I can afford to be magnanimous” he paused “within reason”.  He gave Jaehaegar a squint smile.

The man gave his King a shake of his head with his on wry smile and left the room.

Eddard turned to look at Myrcella and Tommen.

Myrcella simply did not know what to think of this man.  He had thrown her mother off the throne and threatened their death but he seemed so gentle and nice. 

_What was the truth_?

Eddard took a chair between them.  He asked to see her needle work and asked Tommen what he was reading.  Myrcella was sure his interest was genuine.  _Was it though_?  _Was it all an act_?  The King observed the cats lazing about Tommen and smiled.  He looked at her crewel work and praised her for her skills.  He looked confused at what Tommen tried to explain to him.

“I think maybe in time you would make a better King than I Tommen.  Your mind is definitely gifted.”

Myrcella had to speak up.  “That would make him a threat.  If you do not marry me off, I will in time become a threat I would think.  Why not just put us to the sword like Elia, Rhaenyes and Aegon?” Myrcella asked the Stark quietly looking him in the eyes calmly.

Eddard Stark’s reaction shocked the young princess.  The King’s face became ashen.  He stood up from the chair he had sat in to talk to them.  He turned and walked to the far side of the room.  His shoulders were stiff as he looked at the wall before him.  Then his shoulders began to shake.  He was obviously crying silently.  He spent several minutes in the dark corner.

Controlled he walked back to them.  He sat down between them and with restored sad calmness looked at them in turn.  His eyes were red though.

“I am sure almost anyone else would put you to the sword Myrcella.  The man you called father allowed that to occur.  To my everlasting shame and humiliation of my soul I did not put the Mountain, Robert and your grandfather down that day Myrcella.  I am filled with guilt over that day.  I let supposed honor and obligations cloud my soul.  I let past friendship stay my hand.”

“I know you do not believe me but I will lay my life down before any harm comes to Tommen and yourself.”  The man stared off over Myrcella’s head.  He did not speak his eyes unfocused.  Myrcella knew he was seeing that night from Robert’s Rebellion.

“To know the balance between compassion and coolness is a difficult thing” Myrcella told her new king.  “I would guess you must find the balance as difficult to discern my King.”

Eddard stared hard at her.

“You have wisdom Myrcella that most never acquire.  I fear Robert proved that.  Your mother struggles with it and fails.  You do not.  I commend you.”

“Thank you my king.”

Eddard reached out squeezed their shoulders.  He stood up and looked down at them.

“You seem to have forgiven us Eddard Stark.”

“There is nothing to forgive—“

“And yet you have not forgiven Sansa” Myrcella had the courage to overstep Eddard.  She felt very sorry for Sansa.  She was so miserable.

Eddard looked down at her with his steady grey eyes.  “You will make someone a good queen Myrcella.  You are most observant.  But it is not that easy.”

“Why not?”

“Sansa betrayed me.”

“She was young and thought she was in love my King.  She did not foresee the results of her actions.”

“Let me ask you a question Myrcella if I may?”

She looked at him and tilted her head forward slightly.  This man was treating her as an equal.  What a strange occurrence.

“If you had been in Sansa’s place would you have confessed your mother’s plans to me?”

Myrcella could not lie.  “No I would not.  I would have known it was too dangerous.”

“You are four years younger than Sansa and so much wiser.  I cannot forgive her rash actions.  One’s family should be a bastion of support and fealty.  I nearly lost my life because of my eldest daughter.  My family probably scattered to the four winds and likely killed.  I would not have been there to forgive her.  You or Arya would never have betrayed me.  There has to be ramifications.  There must.”  Myrcella saw no anger in the man’s visage only steely resolve.

“Forgive her Eddard Stark or it will eat you alive from the inside.  You are showing more compassion to my dear depraved brother than innocent Sansa” Myrcella told the new King.  She felt embolden.

“That is a lie!” the new king exclaimed.

“All the chambermaids remark of it.  The courtesans. The guards.”

She watched the new King’s eyes get large at that.  His face showed his emotions roiling in him.  Then his face calmed and a squint smile appeared.

In a rueful tone Eddard Stark answered Myrcella “Hmmm … my father used to tell me if everyone is saying right and I am saying left … the answer son is right … you have given me much to think on Myrcella Baratheon.”  He looked at her closely for a moment more.  “When did you become so wise if I may ask?”

She knew the new King was not being sarcastic but genuine in his question. 

“I am only a teenage girl.  I look and listen.  I heed what I am taught.  I read the great philosophers and historians.  My mother forced me to mature quickly.” 

“I notice your choice of pronouns Myrcella” Eddard noted looking over at Tommen and his cats.  The boy petting his snoring cat.  He looked back into Myrcella’s eyes.  She returned his look with a steady gaze.

“I see.  I think I know who is the best suited to rule in this generation” Eddard told her softly.

Eddard Stark glanced again at the books on the desk surrounding the two youngest of Cersei.

Eddard looked at her for a long time again clearly thinking.  He tiled his head and asked for permission to leave.  Myrcella smiled at the politeness and granted him leave.

After he left she turned to look at her brother.

“He is a most unusual man Tommen.  I wonder it if is all an act.” 

Tommen looked at her with his steady gaze.  “There is no guile in him.”  With that Tommen went back to his book.

Myrcella nodded her head in agreement.  A most strange man indeed.  _Why couldn’t he have been her father_?  The fates were most cruel indeed.   

//////////

“No!  I will not send forces to King’s Landing.  Everything is unsettled.  I need to time to think through this new dynamic.”

“No!  Enough I say!  Doran have you ever heard of the saying ‘paralysis through analysis’ our House has been waiting for revenge for almost twenty years!  Enough I say!”  Oberyn was seething with anger.  His brother looked fretful on the seat of Sunspear.

“I merely have to adjust my plans for the Targaryens—“

“NO!  Viserys is dead.  His head filled with gold.  His sister has run off to the Red Wastes to die a miserable death.  We will take what Eddard Stark has offered and run with it!”

Doran snorted in derision.  “I think not brother.  How in the hell Eddard was able to overthrow the Lannister’s from the throne I do not know but this I do know.  The currents are building against Eddard Stark.  He will soon be swept away in the rising floodwaters.”

“Brother.  Doran.  Listen to me.  This is something you cannot see.  You are too calculating and fearful to take the leap of ‘faith’.  Eddard has taken the Iron Throne through guile and gumption.  He finally took off the blinders he has always worn.  He no longer blinds and deludes himself.  He has finally become all he was meant to become.  Our jackals are clear on this.  Do not ignore the evidence they have given us Doran.”

“In two months Eddard is doing more than you did in nearly two decades!  He is offering us Gregor!  Eddard acts while you do not Dorian!  I grow tired of waiting.  I will be old and tottering by the time your plans come to fruition.  Act man!”

Doran Martell studied his brother.  Of course he would be enamored with this new version of Eddard Stark.  The bold and dynamic new man.  The man who was aggressively setting out to claim the Iron Throne for House Stark.  The time for that would have been Robert’s Rebellion Doran thought.  The man making impossible offers he could not meet.  His time had passed.

“I think not Oberyn.  He must prove himself first.  We must sit back and see if he can indeed keep what he has so boldly taken.  The North is behind Eddard but they are fragmented with the Vale only given limp support.  Together the Riverlands and the North are not enough to contend with the Lannisters.”

“I beg to differ brother.  Eddard inspires his people.  The Tullys are solidly in his camp.  The Lannisters may respect Tywin but they do not love him.  They will not fight to their last strength for the man.  The men of the North will do so for Eddard Stark.”

“No I say” Dorian barked back at his brother.  “Highgarden is ambitious and will side with the most likely winner.  That would be House Lannister.  They have the strength of arms and, more so, they have wealth beyond measure.  Highgarden has always been the whore of the Great Houses being bought off by any and all.”

“I happen to like whores dear brother” Oberyn smirked at Doran.

Doran sighed.  Oberyn was such a debauchery ridden prig sometimes. 

“Oberyn.  If you go to King’s Landing and Eddard fails in his endeavor you will be in great danger.  The Game of Thrones is beyond men such as you and Eddard Stark.”

“It seems to me Doran that Eddard Stark has suddenly mastered the game quite well.  I will simply follow his lead and we will be given what we have righteously sought for so long.  The time is now I say!”

Doran squirmed in his seat.  His gout was paining him greatly.  The tension of the last week had aggravated his malady.

The ravens from Eddard were quite frequent and insistent.  Eddard had a new ally that he did not speak of.  That was wise and crafty of the man.

The first raven to come had been a Citadel raven with the formal band on its leg.  The rest had not been banded, and, thus, were not of the Citadel.  It took years to train the ravens and were used judiciously for communication.  Eddard was flaunting his new abilities with daily missives.  Scrolls saying that he would choose other routes to achieve his goals if ignored.  That time was fleeting.  He would remember his allies in the future.  He was to lead Westeros into a golden age.

He made mention of the Children of the Forest and Ice King.  Oberyn had snorted at those mentions.  Doran was much more well-read.  He felt great trouble in his heart at these missives.

But two days ago Eddard had sent another raven.  The man had crafted his message well.  He had laid out the ground work of what he hoped to achieve and then he had set the lure before Oberyn.  Eddard had been sending ravens to both Doran and Oberyn saying the same exact thing.  The ravens arriving together. 

That had changed two days ago.  The raven had impossibly found Oberyn out in Battlefield Academy six leagues away.  Word had gotten back to Doran that the raven had flown straight to Oberyn as he was on the back practice yards of the academy.  Oberyn had been surprised and a little spooked with the raven singling him out so specifically landing on his shoulder cawing.  Oberyn petting the raven while he took the scroll off its leg.  The message delivered the raven flew off cawing.  The message on his leg had proven to be a siren’s call to Oberyn.

Oberyn had rode straight back to Sunspear.  He had arrived in more of a lather than his horse.  Oberyn normally ignored the matters of state but Eddard had hooked him in with all the previous missives.  Oberyn’s paramour, Ellaria, loved all the politics of court.  He had shared the scrolls with his paramour.  Ellaria inflamed with all the plots and subterfuge.  Doran knew the woman urged Oberyn on in his dreams of revenge.

Eddard had promised Oberyn the head of Gregor Clegane.  He had been vague but Eddard Stark promised Oberyn that he would maneuver Tywin Lannister into calling for a duel and that Gregor would be picked to answer the call.  How Eddard knew this desire of House Martell was beyond Doran.  It was impossible actually.  House Martell played their cards close to the vest and did not reveal them to the Iron Throne.  Ever since Doran became Warden of the South it had been thus.

Doran had warned Oberyn to be careful of any inducements offered by the Stark.  This did not stop Oberyn from totally falling for the ploy.  Doran thought his brother had been insufferable since.  Once Oberyn had taken the bit into his mouth he would not release it.  His brother was almost beside himself with his desire to avenge their sister.

Now today they again were arguing over Eddard’s promises.

“I am telling you Oberyn that my way may be slower but it will be surer.  We will ally with Daenerys Targaryen—“

“NO!” Oberyn shouted.  “That will take at least several years to come to fruition.  Hell, you know what our jackals report.  She is lost in the Red Wastes above Qarth.  You know what that means.  She is most likely dead.”

“She might live.  I say we wait and see.  If she lives we will see what happens.  If she achieves some base of power—“

“Enough Doran!  I have waited and waited for you to strike and bring to this House the vengeance that we deserve.  I loved my _Sister_!”

Doran seemed to collapse in on himself.

Oberyn was a passionate man given to running his mouth off and saying the first thing that came to his mind.  Guilt filled Oberyn.  His brother was a good man.

“Doran … Doran forgive me—please.  I spoke rashly.  I know you loved her too.  We have been going your way brother and it is long enough.  We have achieved nothing from it.  We need to take this opportunity.  This path with Daenerys Targaryen is years off in the future and she will most likely die before your plans can come to bear fruit.”

Doran sighed and closed his eyes.  He took a minute to gather himself before he spoke.  “And if you go to King’s Landing and Eddard’s plans fall afoul of cruel reality.   You will most likely die.  You know I do not support this insane desire of yours to fight Gregor Clegane one-on-one.  You are too hot headed!  I feel it in my bones that you will die … I love you Oberyn.  I lost Elia.  I do not want to lose you too.”

Oberyn was moved by his brother’s compassion and love for him.

“Doran.  I know you do not believe in rash actions but sometimes they are needed.  Eddard is offering us what we have desired for so long.  I will not turn aside.  I will take an honor guard to King’s Landing and see what happens.”

“And if that happening is your death?”

Oberyn smiled.  “Well, then you will be free to follow your plans without my harping.”

“I would miss your harping dear brother.  I fear for you if you attempt to scale that Mountain.  He is too big and too fast.”

“I do not fear him brother.  I will squire him on my spear.  I have total confidence in my skills brother.”  Oberyn waggled his eyebrows.  “It will have my special scorpion poison on its tip.  Even if I die, _I do_ know I will wound him.  He is a dead man walking already.  Our House will have its revenge.”

Doran stared at his brother.  Eddard had set the hook to deep.  Oberyn had swallowed the lure deep into his mouth and the hook was deep in his gum.  He would not be able to turn Oberyn aside.  Doran knew the people wished his younger brother had been born first.  The people of Dorne were a people of action and passion.  Doran with his caution and calculations was not what the people of Dorne sought in their leaders.

Doran knew this but he knew his wise leadership had kept Dorne free of the wars that had sapped the rest of Westeros.  He foresaw another major war coming.  He was still sure it would occur.  When Eddard in his innocence had gone to King’s Landing to be Robert’s Hand, Doran was sure it would be the death of the man.  From what Doran had heard from his jackals and Olenna’s moths it would seem he should have died.

Instead, his youngest daughter, Arya, had done the impossible and saved her father from the dungeons.  Then together with some strange religious order it was thought had overthrown the Lannisters.  Eddard Stark had impossibly risen from the dead. 

Now he was playing the Game of Thrones most adroitly.  He had Oberyn in such high passion that Doran had to give in.  Doran aching knees screamed with Doran squirming in his seat.  He knew that Eddard had set him up till Oberyn had to be allowed to come to King’s Landing.  Actually, Doran was both amazed and a little frightened.   The former Warden of the North was already a titan on the battlefield.  If he became a titan in the courts of power Eddard would be unstoppable. 

A new singular power had been born.  Doran would have to take the gambit.  He had no choice now.  He had been nimbly maneuvered into sending his hot-headed brother to King’s Landing.  He would have to send someone to temper Oberyn’s hot passion and simple bone headedness.

“I will send you to King’s Landing” he saw Oberyn smile happily “but you will take my emissary with you.  This person will make sure you do not do something rash and get your fool ass killed.”

“I will not be denied brother.  If Eddard Stark can deliver to me the Mountain then I will take it.  I will be knocking that mountain down.  Do not doubt that Doran.”

“We will see Oberyn.  I personally doubt that the man will be able to setup the scenario he presented to us.  He has to contend with the Tyrells and the Baratheons.  They will not roll over and play dead for him.  Anyone of them can take Eddard out.”

Doran watched Oberyn cock an eyebrow, then he chuckled and then he was laughing hard.  Finally, he bent over for a minute until he regained his composer.

“I must ask dear younger brother … what is so _godsdamn_ funny?”

“I am sorry brother.  Eddard is one of the best swordsman in Westeros if not the best now that that stupid prick Joffrey sent Barristan Selmy into exile.  Jaime Lannister is good.  That is it.  Good.  Same with Stannis.  Renly only thinks he is good.  No brother.  Eddard is more than good enough to succeed.”

Looking at Doran in his wheelchair Oberyn could see that his brother clearly had his doubts as to Oberyn’s assessments.  Oberyn was alright with that.  Doran was a master of the Crevasse board and the Game of Thrones.  He had never trained martially.  Oberyn had seen Eddard in several tourneys.  The man had only fought half-heartedly for some reason and still nearly won.  Oberyn had not been fooled.  The man had not wanted to win.

This had been unfathomable to Oberyn.  He wanted to win at everything he did with all the force of his will and passion.

“Who will be your emissary that will speak in your name Doran?”

“Arianne my daughter.”

“ _What_!  I refuse.  She is like you a Doran.  She is a backroom schemer and always planning what to do with her pieces instead of acting!  I want a warrior at my side.  Arianne is indeed skilled at politics and will make a great ruler but this is a time for war and fighting.  I can’t be the nurse maid to a Crevasse player who will wilt with the possible rancor and bloodshed I may encounter.”

“No I say.  I demand you send a general or high lord of one of our Great Houses” Oberyn shouted at his brother.

“I will not Oberyn.  I rule here and you will be taking my daughter.  You will follow her wise counsel.”

“I will not!  I say this is perfidy!”

They had argued long and vociferously.  Oberyn had lost.  Doran had had his will imposed much to the disgust of Oberyn.

//////////

Oberyn was lying in bed with his paramour Ellaria.  They had been making love for the last few hours.  As always Ellaria had been most exquisite in their bed.  They had brought the incestuous sisters Palina and Camylle Yornwood into their bed for most intense lovemaking.  They were courtesans of the high court of Sunspear.  The sisters had secretly wed but loved sharing their love with others.  The sisters had been very attracted to Oberyn and Ellaria.

Dorne was very liberal in their sexual conventions and Oberyn was very open in his views of sexual relations.  He prided himself in that.  Ellaria shared the same openness and desire to live the ‘swing’ lifestyle.  They freely brought women and men to their bed.  Ellaria was especially ravenous in her hunger for the female body.

Oberyn had Ellaria half rolled onto his hard warrior body.  Her heavy full breast pressed snugly into his side.  Both of their bodies soaked in sweat and cum.  Well, their bodies were liberally soaked in the sisters’ cum also.

The two lovers looked over on the other side of their large royal bed.  A bed of extra-large dimensions to handle their nightly endeavors.  The frame and supporting slates underneath most thick and sturdy to handle their hot lovemaking that they partook of every opportunity they could. 

The two sisters had been still wild and full of energy after screwing Oberyn and Ellaria like crazed hyenas.  The two sisters had fallen on each other beside Oberyn and Ellaria.  This had recharged the elder couple several times watching the sisters go at each other.  The sex between the Red Viper and his paramour intense and fulfilling. 

In Dorne incest was no big deal.  House Martel fully supported all unions that were freely entered into.  Martell and Ellaria had enjoyed watching the last time Palina and Camylle had rolled into a sixty-nine and simply went wild on each other devouring their passion flowers with glutinous glee. 

It was amazing to watch them suck each other off three more times each.  Finally, they were worn out.  Camylle on top at the end tiredly turned around and pulled Palina to her body and they quickly fell asleep.  Now they were peacefully snoring softly hugging each other.

“So you are happy with the end of your conversation with your brother?  I would think he knows of his daughter’s true nature.”

Oberyn snorted turning his gaze away from the sister lovers and smiled down at Ellaria.  He slowly traced the drying sweat on Ellaria’s back.

“Arianne is the rare leader Ellaria.  She is both adept at the games of court but also has an understanding of what must be done on the battlefield.  She is decisive and willing to take chances.  That is something, unfortunately, that my dear brother does not have within him.”

“That is the reason you argued so obstinately against him sending Arianne with us to King’s Landing?” Ellaria asked sagely.

“Yes.  The more I argued against Arianne coming with us the more Dorian demanded it.  I had to fight to hide my glee in his pronouncement.  I know Arianne will be happy.  She is a woman who likes to be in the middle of great events.”

“Why hasn’t she been in our bed Oberyn?  I want her.”

“I know my sweet” Oberyn kissed Ellaria’s temple “she hides it well but Arianne is in a perplexing situation.  She had used the marriage to the Targaryen’s to keep her options free.  We both know that Doran now thinks to send Tristan to Daenerys if she survives.  To offer him as her future king.  Arianne is unaware of Doran’s schemes.”

“What Doran does not know is that Arianne, if given time to plan for it, will use her wiles to propose that _she_ marry Daenerys Targaryen.  Our Jackals report the young Khaleesi slept with her handmaidens and quite enjoyed it judging by her screams and going down on them repeatedly.  This gives Arianne hope.  Arianne is the eldest scion.  Arianne feels they would make a great ruling couple.  Alas, Doran is somewhat staid in his thoughts and precepts.  Shame.  That would be so hot seeing Arianne go down on the pale Valyrian.  It is rumored she is quite the beauty.”

Oberyn was silent for a long moment.  “Alas, for Arianne it would seem that Daenerys was quite happy with the Khal before his death.  He was powerful and dangerous.  It is what attracts you to me is it not Ellaria?”

He felt his sweet love smile into his shoulder and kissed it.  She sighed.

“You know me too well my sweet Oberyn.  It is your sense of danger and sense of power that does attract me so.  That and the fact that you bone your ass off.  On top of that you are sweet and kind.”

Oberyn sighed, happy with his chosen mate. 

“Do you think that King’s Landing will be exciting Oberyn.  Do you think that Eddard’s schemes can come to fruition?  He said he told you more than he has the others.  I think he did that to hook you in even deeper.  He is most scheming my sweet Red Viper.  We both are attracted to risk and danger.”

“You are so perceptive Ellaria.”  He play yelped when she swatted his stomach. 

“I think I will seduce both Eddard and Catelyn when she arrives at King’s Landing.  I will like adding them to my totem.  We will enjoy them bot—what do you find so funny Oberyn?”

Oberyn had started chuckling at his sweet paramour.

“Well, Oberyn?”  Ellaria glared at her sweet lover chuckling at her plans.  “What is so damn funny about me seducing Eddard and Catelyn Stark?”  She was not used to Oberyn laughing at her plans of future seductions.

Oberyn slowly controlled himself.  “You will not be seducing those two my dear.  Eddard bleeds purity.  Only Barristan Selmy and Arthur Dayne were his equal in purity.  The man is a fucking saint my dear.  If there is only one man on this world who will not commit adultery it is Eddard Stark.  And Catelyn Tully … don’t even get me started on that prig.  She is so stiff and uptight I am sure she was born with a rod up her ass.”  Oberyn started to chuckle again at the humor it all.

“You will see Oberyn!  You will eat those words!” Ellaria barked at her lover.

Oberyn chuckled.  He decided he had to make a tactical move and change the subject.

“Daenerys has shown bisexual tendencies but she likes danger in those she seeks as a mate as well.  She fully supported her Khal in all he did.  It would seem Daenerys Targaryen is attracted to the bad boys.  Arianne is a dangerous woman but it is her mind that makes her dangerous.”

His plan worked.  Ellaria loved politics and trying to figure out all the angles and was focused on what challenges may be faced if Daenerys lived.

“It is only a hunch, but I feel that the Targaryen princess would not be attracted to our Arianne.  No matter how sharp her mind, if Arianne cannot show great prowess with weapons and ability on the battleground, then our sweet little probably dead Targaryen will not even notice her.”

“So this Daenerys is totally het then?  I thought our reports said she slept with her handmaidens?  She has to be at least bisexual.  Arianne has a chance, Oberyn.”

“She did sleep with her handmaidens and enjoyed them quite thoroughly by all reports.  But she treated them as concubines.  Daenerys likes her women but as a ruler … no she would demand a warrior at her side.  Or maybe a powerful king to cement her rule.  Arianne can give her Dorne but not Westeros.  Arianne cannot fight the battles that the Targaryen will need to secure her throne.”

“Like such a woman from Westeros exists” Ellaria observed.

“Agreed.”

Oberyn kept his counsel on this to himself.  He knew of Brienne of Tarth.  The only problem was she was a little puppy dog following Renly around love sick.  The only problem with that fact was the fact Renly Baratheon was one hundred percent gay and in love with Loras Tyrell.  Brienne had one other large drawback.  She was … well … not pleasing to the eye. 

Daenerys was most definitely pleasing to the eyes from all reports.  Surely, she would want a woman who was gorgeous or at least pretty as her mate.  Where do you a find a supper attractive female warrior?  You did not find them growing on trees.  They certainly were not being raised and trained in Westeros.  Brienne was a one off.

Oberyn felt Ellaria’s breathing smooth out in sleep.

He guessed Ellaria was right.  He knew of no other woman on the continent who could possible catch Daenerys Targaryen’s eye.  Nope.  No mighty female warrior who was bisexual or gay.  Especially one of noble heritage.  It was an interesting scenario though even if would never occur. 

 


	24. Righting of Wrongs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN #1: I am back. I hope. I think. I apologize for the long wait but it was necessary. Hopefully, i can pick up where i left off and give you the reader an enjoyable story to read.
> 
> The project that kept me away for 8+ months is done. If RL does not jump up and bite me in the butt i should be able to start posting regularly again. ... But ... I have 3 other stories other than Reclamation and this story to jump start. I need to get my notes organized again and will need to reread a lot of this story to remember all the threads and sub-plots i have going. 
> 
> This will take time. Nothing like the recent past. What i enjoy most is the process of creation so i am ready to get back into writing these stores.

**Heirs Apparent**

**Righting of Wrongs**

 

The pale hand reached out to knock on the thick panels of the oaken door.  The owner looked at the hinges and iron banding the door to give it strength.  The hinges had had images of dragons winging on cloudy skies by the metalsmiths.  The iron hammered by delicate chisels to inscribe the beautiful images.  The iron bands filled with a rolling scene of ancient Valyria.  The spires rising to the heavens in fluted columns. 

The man thought of the beauty lost.  They were a cruel race for sure but they had wrought so much beauty.

“Yes … who is it?”

“It is the Hand of the King.  Varys.”

“Oh …”

“Can I come in Sansa?”

“Oh … yes, yes … of course”.  There was a slight pause, with muffled voices from the room.  The door opened.

Varys slowly walked into the room.  His hands in the sleeves of his dark blue robe. The fabric rustling along the thick carpet as he stepped into the room.  Varys observed again the beauty that was Sansa Stark.  Tall and regal she stood before him.  Unfortunately, the dross of indecisiveness and trepidation marred that beauty.  A beauty he observed but could never ever truly feel.  The man sighed inside for what had been lost.  To Varys, Sansa was like a beautiful painting of a Myrish master of the Harlillos Eranohrin dynasty.  It touched his soul but it could not touch his libido.  That had been cut away all those years ago.

The Whisper had followed half spoken whispers to find Jeyne Poole.  His face hid the emotions he felt.  He had saved her from one of Littlefinger’s brothels.  Gods he hated that man.   The Whisperer had been told of the training Littlefinger had planned for Jeyne.  Both Sansa and Vayon Poole had been most thankful for her return.  Sansa Stark had her best friend returned to her.  The girl giving Sansa a lifeline.  An anchor to right her spun out of control world.

The two teenagers were clearly working on their needlework.  Varys could see they were both quite skilled.  He was impressed with the teenagers’ abilities they had developed to a master’s level.

“Why are you here Hand of the King?” Sansa asked him guardedly.

“I need to ask you some questions my dear.”  Sansa bowed politely and rejoined her friend at the table filled with the threads, fabrics, needles and hoops of the craft.  The redhead seeking distance to deal with the interloper in her room.  Varys observed the results of their needlework skills.  Sansa was making a beautiful bouquet of wild flowers.  Jeyne Poole crafting a scene of a knight on a mighty charger.

“What do you need to know Hand of the King?” spoken with a hint of trepidation.  The late teenager looking up with large guarded eyes.

“Varys will do my child.”

“Oh … Varys.”

“I need to know of Sandor Clegane.”

Sansa’s eyebrows knitted slightly.  “I see.  What do you need to know Varys?”

“How did the man treat you Sansa?  Did he ever abuse or harm you?  Did he ever threaten you?  I have heard how some of the Kingsguard did not treat you well child.”

Varys watched the girl’s eyes as she thought back.  She paused a short moment.  Good Varys thought.  She was not quick to comment but clearly was replaying past events.

She surprised Varys.  “Can’t my father ask me these questions?  I am his daughter.”

The Whisperer paused a moment while he regarded Sansa with a steady gaze.

“I feel in time girl, that your father will forgive you Sansa.” Varys told the tall beauteous young woman in a calm steady voice.  “I counsel patience my child.”  Sansa fretted.  Her face torn with pain.  In her agitation the tall redhead rose suddenly from her chair.  She began to pace.  Sansa wrung her hands as she walked.

Jeyne Poole regarded her friend with sad eyes.

“Why won’t he forgive me?!” Sansa cried out plaintively.  “He can barely bring himself to look at me!”

“Your going to Cersei nearly got your father killed Sansa.  I fear what would have become of you without his protection.  Joffrey is a reprehensible worm.  Cersei is little better Sansa.  How could you have told Cersei’s of your father’s plans?  If it had not been for Arya leading her Insurrection I am quite sure your father would be long dead by now Sansa.  Your sister succeeded beyond all expectation I might add.  It is a miracle actually.”

Varys kept his counsel to himself of how it had been him that had told Eddard Stark of his daughter’s betrayal.  He had simply thought the man deserved to know how his fortunes had turned so suddenly and thoroughly.  Now Varys thought it best again.  It had allowed the boil of betrayal to be lanced early and hopefully begin to heal.

Sansa grimaced at the eunuch’s pronouncement.  “I know” Sansa said miserably.  “Arya the Direwolf … Arya the hero …” Sansa turned to face the Hand of the King directly.  “Please talk to him Varys … please let my father know how sorry I am.  Can you do that for me Varys?  I beg it” she finished softly her eyes imploring.

“I will my child” Varys replied evenly.  To his surprise he knew he actually would.  The girl deserved another chance.  She had been young and full of nativity.  He was sure that had been expunged from the girl.  Though hidden he sensed an iron will buried deep in the girl.  Maybe he and others could help bring it out.  He would talk to Arya and Syrio.  Eddard was a good man.  Time healed all wounds it was said.  Varys had learned that was often not true but he would try in this case.

“Give your father time Sansa.  Learn from your past.  Grow.  Change.  Become more than you were.”

Sansa looked at him with her head tilted clearly evaluating the words from Varys.  That too was a good sign.  She straightened her shoulders.

“Sandor Clegane was basically good to me.  He snarled and barked but his bit was toothless.  He treated me no worse than anyone else.”  She paused appraising her memories.  “He did step in several times to protect me from others … he deflected them and shielded me” Sansa mused half to herself.  “I think he saw me as a damsel that needed saving.  A fairy tale maiden.  I do not know if he saw me as more than that Varys.  Did he see me as the woman I am?  That I doubt.  Does that help?”

Actually it did.  Varys was actually impressed with the succinct evaluation of Sandor and the situation he and Sansa had been in.  Maybe there was more to the girl than others saw.  He smiled at Sansa.  Yes, there was diamond here.  It merely needed to be cut from the stone and then polished.  Would it happen?  He would try and make it so.

Varys started to leave.  “Give your father time Sansa.  He is a good man.”

Sansa bowed her head.  Varys took his leave.

Varys took a right and started down the wide corridor.  He admired the reddish sandstone and several tapestries hanging on the walls.  He saw a tapestry showing the manly vigor and majesty of one Robert Baratheon.  That would need to come down post haste.

The bald eunuch continued down the hall working on the members he needed to find for the new Small Council of their new King, Eddard Stark.  He needed to find … ahhhh … Varys thought.  Time for a diversion.

Down the hall coming towards him stomped one Sandor Clegane.  The man glowering at anything and nothing.  His long hair comb over to cover the side of his head where the hair was missing and to cover the damage to his face.  His tall frame and muscled body intimidating.  His grey eyes constantly scanning his environs.

Varys made eye contact.  Sandor refused it looking away.  They approached each other.  Sandor dressed in his regularly worn olive-green cloak over plain, soot-dark armor.  On his belt was hooked his distinctive helm sculpted into the shape of a dog’s snarling head.  The helm slapping his thigh as he stomped down the hall.

“Sandor, my good man.  It is so good to see you” Varys falsely enthused. 

Sandor had been purposefully looking away but he now glared banefully at Varys.

“Bollock!” he snorted and pounded his feet as he passed the eunuch.

“It is a beautiful day Sandor.  Enjoy it” Varys spoke turning his head to watch the retreating Hound.

Varys smiled.  As he walked down the hall Sandor held up his right hand giving Varys the bird.

Satisfied Varys continued down the hall.

The Hand moved down the corridor and took a left at the intersection.  He was heading towards to halls that would led him the Little Gallery which led to a covered culvert.  This in turn would lead him to his residence in the Tower of the Hand.  The eunuch still found it hard to believe his change in fortunes.

He was coming upon on of the four main staircase in Maegor’s Holdfast.  The large steps traversing the four floors of the holdfast.  Each floor had a large landing to allow foot traffic to enter and leave the stairway.  He was on the third floor.

Varys eyes squinted seeing Arya go running up the stairs in a flash.  She had her practice sword out in her left hand.  He continued to approach the stairwell at a sedate pace.  Arya came flashing by again, this time going down.  He was closer now.  Arya was definitely muttering under her breath her face sheened with sweat.

With measured steps Varys moved forward.  He was near the landing now.  Arya went storming back up the steps.  Close up now Varys could see that Arya was soaked sweat.  Her hair was starting grow back out.  The ragged locks being trimmed to get the hair back to semblance of the same length.  The perspiration dripping down her face and darkening her tunic and trousers.  She was definitely making vile deprecating remarks as she ran up the steps.

Having arrived at the landing Varys looked up.  On the top landing sat Syrio leaned back in a simple chair with the front legs up off the floor and the back against a bannister.  He was eating an apple.  His eyes twinkling with mirth.  Arya was before him bent over gasping for breath.

“Catch your breath quick girl.  You got more running to do” Syrio smirked at Arya.

“Why don’t you lead by example of great First Sword?” Arya sneered out glancing at her teacher askance. 

“Tsk tsk … such vileness … be on your way Arya.  Back down the stairs girl.  Show me you are not a little girl dreaming of her dolls.”

Arya scowled and stormed back down the stairs her feet stomping.  Arya was waving her sword all around in vexation.

Syrio looked down at Varys and smiled with an evil leer.  Varys thought the man was enjoying himself way too much.  They both watched Arya make another circuit on the stairs.  She was breathing heavy but she continued on.  Varys was quite impressed with her endurance and maybe more so her will to continue.  She ran another circuit on the staircase.

She was approaching the top landing again.  In a blinding flash Syrio was off his chair.  The chair clattering to the floor.  Syrio had his practice sword now in hand.  With his sword whipped up he attacked Arya with vicious glee.  The Stark teenager cried out but was able to block the blinding fast first strikes.  She stumbled when Syrio landed into her and tried to wrap her head hard.  Arya pivoted side blocking his stroke and taking their swords down and then jumping back disengaging.

Syrio leaped after her attacking fast and furious.  He quickly disarmed the girl.  His unannounced attack gave the man the advantage and he took it.

“That was unfair!” Arya growled out between heaving breaths.  “You cad!  There was no honor in such an attack!” Arya spoke out looking aggrieved.

The Braavosi gave Arya a shit eating grin.  “Arya … you speak foolishly.”  She started to protest but her master held up his hand and she bit her tongue.  “When the fox in the field sneaks up on the mouse does it then yip loudly and dance all around the mouse announcing its presence in its triumph.  No!  The fox jumps up in the air and pounces on the mouse with all four paws and then rends the mouse with sharp canines.”

“We are not foxes and mice Syrio.”

“No.  But we fight like them.  If a man fights you with honor then all to the good.  But remember Meryn Trant.  The man fought with no honor.  I fear to tell you this Arya.  Rare will be the fight that is honor filled.  You must fight to win.

“What if I am the mouse?  What should I do master?”

“Run away.”

“What?!”

“Arya dispense with the silly songs of minstrels who sing of battles never experienced and poets who have never even touched a sword.  Remember Arya.  We must always tell death ‘not today will you come for me’.  Live today to win tomorrow.  Always seek to fight at advantage Arya.  When you are a Water Dancer then you can overcome most situations.  Though it pains me to say this Arya, I too must run away at times to live.  There is always tomorrow for victory and revenge.”

Varys saw that Arya was listening raptly to her instructor.  Arya was indeed the perfect student that Syrio said she was.

“Now—back to running my disciple” the man spoke picking up his chair and leaning back again.  His feet on the lowest support rung of the chair.  He pulled out another apple and started to bite into it.  “Chop chop!”

“Why don’t you join me _Master_ and show me your awesome phenomenal speed and endurance?” Arya jibbed at her teacher.  He merely smiled at her.  Arya snarled.  She then turned and started running down the steps cursing under her breath.

Varys stepped though the landing.  Arya was definitely improving quickly.  Maybe she was indeed a Water Dancer.  The exceptional flower only needing the proper watering and mentoring to blossom into her true destiny. 

/////////

Eddard was in the small alcove that was off the royal chambers that were now his.  He still did not truly feel comfortable in this place.  The man who had once been his best friend had resided in this room.  So had the woman who had proven to be both of their nemesis.  He had had the large royal bed removed and a simple twin bed installed.  Until his wife was able to join him in the Red Keep he needed nothing more.

He was sitting before the large meeting table against the back wall of the room.  He sat in a chair with his back against the wall.  The scroll work on the chair legs exquisite depicting scenes from a royal hunt.  In Winterfell he always felt safe with his people.  King’s Landing had proven to be a viper’s nest.  Eddard now preferred to keep his back to a wall if possible.  He had the sword he used for combat across his knees.  He had run his sharpening stone along the edges till they literally gleamed in the light.  He now ran his oil rag up and down the steel.

It was not Valyrian steel like Ice but it was harden steel made by Mikken the blacksmith of Winterfell.  It had been made of pure iron with the impurities removed.  He lifted the blade and looked down the razor sharp edge.  The new King looked into the nearest corner of his room.  The ceremonial sword of his ancestors resided in that corner.  For over four hundred years the sword had been in his family.  It was forged in Valyria just before its fall into ruin.  The sword passed down from father to eldest son.  The sword should have been Brandon Stark’s his brother but he had died along with his father before the Iron Throne.

The sword was used for executions primarily.  The Starks had always believed that the mouth than passed sentence of death must in turn be the hand to deliver that sentence.  The sword was much too large and heavy to be used in combat.  Its immense size made it ungainly in combat where speed and agility were paramount.  The sharpest edge that did not dull or break did little good if you could not bring it to bear upon your enemy.

He heard a knock at the door.  He sighed.  Getting up, Eddard put his war sword on the table.  He walked to the door and opened it.  Outside stood Sandor Clegane.  The man stood glowering down at Eddard.  Eddard knew the man was hiding his discomfort with his glowering demeanor.  Eddard sighed again. He easily understood the man’s always barely suppressed boiling anger.

Sandor was a huge and heavily-muscled man. He stood six feet six inches tall.  The right side of his face was gaunt, with sharp cheekbones and a heavy brow.  That dour visage paled when compared against the left side of his face.  It was a burned ruin with a stump for an ear.  It was slick black flesh that was pocked with craters and deep cracks that ooze red and wet.  The scars extend down to his throat.

Observing Sandor calmly, Eddard noted the twisted mass of a thick scar around his right eye, which was still good. The man’s nose was large and hooked.  His long hair was dark and thin and brushed so it covered the left since no hair grew there. Sandor's eyes were grey and bone showed on his jaw.

The man was wearing what Eddard had come to discover was Sandor’s favorite attire during his rounds in the Red Keep.  His olive-green cloak was over his plain, soot-dark armor.  He had hanging off his belt his distinctive helm sculpted into the shape of a snarling dog's head.  On his hip was his longsword while on his back was a Warhammer.  On his other hip was a long dagger.  The man was well prepared for defense and attack Eddard observed.

Eddard had given him the duty to patrol the halls of the Red Keep to keep it safe.  The man was very dutiful in his charge.  The man walking along the corridors diligently looking for trouble.  He growled and snapped at everyone, even Eddard, but Eddard had come to find that if the man was treated fairly his bark had little bite.  The new King would chuckle to himself watching Sandor test the limits of how sarcastic he could be.  The man judging the limits and not exceeding them.  He had a temper to be sure but he seemed a little calmer of late.

In his raspy voice Sandor spoke “You called my _King_.”  A slight smile tugged at Eddard’s lips.  Just the slightest insolence could be heard on the honorific.  The man had spunk and fire.  Eddard found he liked that in the man.  There was a basic honesty to Sandor.  This man could be trusted if he fully believed he was being treated fairly and finally shown the honor he deserved.

This was Eddard’s thought.  His instincts spoke to him.  Varys thought the man too volatile.  Eddard would find out.  Sandor was not the type of man to find dissembling of any use so Eddard had decided to come straight to the point.

“As you know Sandor, the Kingsguard has been wiped out.”

“I had nothing to do with that!” Sandor barked holding his hands up.

Eddard shook his head slightly and took a breath to let the moment pass.  “I am not accusing you of anything Sandor.  I need to reconstitute the Kingsguard.  With some changes.  Certain moors and precepts I feel are outdated.  The vow of chastity for one is an archaic burden that should be abandon.  ”

“ _Okaayyyyy_ ” Sandor replied with a wary tone.  Eddard saw Sandor shake his head to get his hair more fully over the left side of his face to hide at least some of the hideous damage done to it.

With a snort Eddard continued.  “I repeat.  I need to reform the Kingsguard.  The throne does need its protection.”

With a steady look Sandor regarded Eddard.  Then he burst out laughing.

“What is so funny?”

“Well, you wouldn’t have to worry with my chipping around with a songbird.  None will even come near me.”  He continued to chuckle at his dark self-deprecating humor.  The tilting back of his head had made Sandor’s hair fall away from the left side of his face.

“You will be the first.  Where are your quarters?”

“In the guard’s barracks.  With the Goldcloaks.  I do not want the position.  All we knights are full of shit anyway.  Hell, I’m no virtuous knight in shining armor my King.  I’m just as weak as the next knight in my commitments.  The Kingsguard disgraced themselves in Cersei’s coup.  I repeat we are all full of shit my liege.”  Sandor saw Eddard looking at his face intently.  Eddard showed no shock or disgust at the sight.  The Hound shook his head quickly to again cover his scars.

Eddard slowly approached the Hound. 

The Hound eyed Eddard suspiciously as his King approached him. 

“I told you I do not want the job.”

Very slowly Eddard reached out with his sword.  His manner relaxed and nonthreatening.  Sandor cringed but held his ground.  Slowly with calm expert skill Eddard placed his sword underneath the hair the Hound had covering the ruined left side of his face.  Eddard slowly pushed it back and away from the marked face.

“You have been harmed Sandor; I cannot undo that.  I can only treat you with respect.  You are a man of quality and honor in our own way.”  Eddard let the hair fall back down to cover the damage done by Gregor, the older brother of Sandor.

Sandor snorted while shaking his head.  “Forgive me my King but you are totally daft.”

Eddard smiled. 

“You are trying to tame the savage Hound methinks my liege.”

“I have no need for a Hound, Sandor.  I need a man.  A man I can trust.”

“I am no saint my King” Sandor spoke with self-revulsion.  “I think I would have done bad deeds if I had been ordered long enough, hard enough.  No matter how much I would have hated the orders I would have eventually cracked.  I say again we knights are full of shit.  I am no Eddard Stark—Eddard Stark.”

“You are in luck then Sandor” Eddard intoned softly.

A look of consternation came on the Hound’s face.  “How so?”  Eddard could see that he did have Sandor’s full attention now.

“I will never ask you to do anything wrong or against your conscious.  A conscious I know you have no matter how much you try and hide it.  I only want to do what is right for the realm.  Only for the realm.  Not for myself or for my dynasty.

Eddard shook his head at the look of disbelief on Sandor’s face.  The Hound tilted his head as if trying to understand the man before him.

“I am your King.  I could command you obedience but I will not.  I will have porters pack your items.”

“Ha.  They won’t have much work.  I repeat I have not accepted the bloody job.”

“I will have your personal items taken to the third floor” was Eddard’s calm reply.  He waited.  The words slowly penetrated Sandor’s guard.  Eddard smirk smiled seeing first confusion and then shock come on the Hound’s face.

“You mean to make me the Lord Commander?” the disfigured man spoke in a small voice.

“Yes.  That is what I propose Sandor Clegane.  I need a Lord Commander.  I think you would be excellent in the job.”

“I think you are daft.”  Sandor looked around with a slightly stunned look to his eyes.

The new king closed his eyes and sighed.  This man was confounding.  He refused to see the good within himself.

“Nevertheless.  I want you.”

“I need time to think on it my King.”  Eddard noticed there was now no hint of sarcasm in the man’s voice.  Sandor was considering his words.  Eddard had him but could not show it.

“You have some time.  I hope for you to say yes.  I am travelling to the Street of Steel and to Tobho Mott and his establishment Arcane Arts of Qohor.  Will you accompany me?”

The large man scoffed one foot on the carpet.  “Oh alright.  What can it hurt? … By me doing this does not mean I accept your offer my King.”

“Of course not.  Meet me at the Aerion postern gate in thirty minutes” Eddard told Sandor.  The man told him he would be there in a gruff reply.  Eddard smiled.  It was a start.

Thirty minutes later Eddard was at the gate with Arya and her sword teacher, Syrio Forel.  He had his new honor guard.  These men had proved their worth in the Insurrection that his daughter had led.  Javer Goodbrook, Styve Grandison, Matamion and Jaehaegar Velnalys.  These men had once been part of Rhaegar’s honor guard and now they were his.  He was not sure of the symmetry of it all but he accepted gladly their allegiance. 

The new king had thought over the idea of having these men form the backbone of his new Kingsguard but decided they had more worth as warriors whose allegiance was directly to him and not to the Red Keep as the Kingsguard were.  The duty was really same but the mindset was totally different.  These men had by happenstance formed on the now King’s shoulder in combat in his conquest of the Iron Throne. 

This had led Eddard to decide against them becoming members of the Kingsguard.  If he went to war they would be his honor guard.  He needed them at his side constantly in public.  Their presence would help to solidify his nascent hold on Houses from the Crown and Stormlands.  Seeing the former honor guard of House Targaryen supporting the House of Stark would lead credence to his claim to the throne.

These men were relaxed waiting to begin their journey to the Street of Steel.  Arya was bouncing on her feet.  She was anxious to see the making of new swords and armor.  Syrio smiled at his charge.  He had told Eddard that he considered broadswords an extreme waste of steel when you could make five or six rapiers from that steel.  Still, the fallen Water Dancer expressed an interest to see the creation of new steel weapons.

Behind him Eddard heard the sound of feet approaching rapidly accompanied with snorting and grumbling.  The Hound had arrived barking Eddard thought to himself.  The man seemed uncomfortable.  With an air of being bereaved Sandor fell in beside Arya and Syrio.  This impressed Eddard.  The Hound had seen that Eddard was well protected and moved to protect his daughter.  Syrio was a master of the highest extreme but another sword never hurt.

The small party went to the postern gate that Aegon had named after his father as an honor.  In his readings of the Red Keep this was the gate that Aegon had used to leave and enter the Red Keep for his day to day business when peace was in effect.  The rest of the small personal gates were plain and simple affairs.  This one was too on the outside of the keep.  Not so on the inside.  The sides and the lintel of the gate had columns that had in them carved dragons climbing up the marble shafts.  The shaft also had the unique female sphinxes that were winged with dragon wings.  The traditional dragons climbing up over the sphinxes.  Eddard had observed the subtle eroticism after reading it in the books.  The dragon’s claws and heads resting on breast and in crotches.

Eddard shook his head. Why had Aegon asked the stonemasons to put the sexual innuendo into their work?  The human mind was a strange thing at times the new king mused.

The party went through the gate and they heard it being barred with the three massive oaken timbers put into the hold brackets.

The small party walked the thirty yards to arrive at the King’s Road that came before the Barbican the main gate in and out of the Red Keep.  The gates were closed.  The chance for some subterfuge was too great to have them opened at all yet.  The new reign of Eddard Stark was still a fragile thing.  The new king knew it.  The populace had no love for the Baratheon reign.  The previous king, King Aerys II Targaryen, had fallen into insanity and greatly harmed his kingdom.

This all gave Eddard Stark a grace period.  He had instituted immediate changes.  He had stopped all ostentatious trappings of royalty.  There had been no grand parties or excessive displays of wealth and power.  His few hearings with the populace to air their grievances had started to cause whispers.  In this case positive ones.  This new King was fair and just.  Varys had sparrows flitting around in King’s Landing.  The birds landing all over the city to peck for fodder for their own unique crops.  The little birds listening intently as they went about their business.

The words they reported back were positive.  The population of King’s Landing liked this new King.  They were giving him the benefit of the doubt.  This would give Eddard the time he needed to solidify his hold on power.  He needed stability to perform the various acts he had created in his mind to fully win the throne he had taken from the Lannister and Baratheon dynasties.  He again wondered about a possible claim by a Targaryen.  He thought sadly this was something he would not have to worry for.  He had in the end not saved the girl.

The small party walked down the King’s Road that ran through the Gate of the Gods to the Barbican of the Red Keep.  The road was well maintained.  The first part of the road from Red Keep was lined by tall and majestic maple and elm trees.   The mature trees had full canopies that provided shade for the merchants and pedestrians using the road near the Red Keep.  It was only the third hour after sunrise and the air still somewhat cool.  The air would heat up with the rising sun and the populace of King’s Landing would then be thankful for the trees.

The trees were filled with robins, blue jays, mocking birds along with signing song birds.  The air resplendent with their sweet melodies.  Eddard smiled seeing Arya pointing at the various birds visible in the branches or those that had flitted down to the ground to look for seeds, scratch or insects to feed to their young.  Arya was still young enough to see the wonder in such things.  With a sad look on his face the King lamented that humans seemed to so easily lose the ability to be amazed as they grew into maturity.

Here most of the buildings lining the road were businesses that catered to the needs of the Red Keep with fine crafted pastries and cakes.  Oher eateries assisting the cooking staff in making delicious repasts.  The repair of daily garb and the creation of new fine attire.  There were artisans that maintained the fine furniture, china, eating utensils and day to day items needed for the “royal” life.  There were also many fine hotels to house the staff of Lords, wealthy merchants from afar, the staff of foreign dignitaries and various visiting religious orders.

A soft smile crossed Eddard’s face.  He was looking at one of the three brothels in this part of the city.  The establishments blatant in their business.  Most of the brothels where on the Silk Road and three other locations in the City.  That was the ordinances.  The reality was that if there was a need it would be met.  Eddard smirked.  Or maybe _scratched or filled_ Eddard thought for what for him was wicked lascivious thoughts.   The name Stiletto was an eye catcher.  Along with the sultry paintings of sultry women barely clad standing in said stilettos. 

The taciturn man shook his head and walked on.  Arya was asking Syrio about the establishment.  His confused blustering was amusing.  Eddard was happy that the sword master was fielding those questions and not himself.

They had reached the major cross road of the King’s Road and the Dragon Tail Pathway.  The major thoroughfare crossing the King’s Road was along a natural fold in the city.  A creek was beside the road that the builders of the King’s Road had erected a small study bridge to cross over.  At this intersection was several large building with one house and apartment complex rising up to seven stories.  It was the tallest building in the area by far.  On the opposite corner was a well maintained church of the seven.  It had one main spire surrounded by seven steeples for each of the gods of the seven.

There was a store near the corner with ornate awnings that had many tables out front with circular chairs arrayed around them.  There was a man out in front of the small gate surrounding the front court with the tables and chairs.  He had a small cart on two large wheels.  On the side was written “Cool Slushes”.  The party gravitated to the merchant. 

The man told them that a ‘Slush’ was ice crystals that had juice concentrate poured over them.  The man had a plethora of flavors to choose from.  This allowed for many combinations to be created.  Eddard said he was paying.  All bought a large cup of the concoctions.  Eddard had blueberry while Arya was moaning her way through a peach drink.  From the corner of his eye Eddard watched Sandor gulp down four cups of cherry.  He acted like he cared less but he kept going back for more with only half a snarl on his face.

Jaehaegar Velnalys mentioned to the vendor that he had the honor of serving the King.  The man immediately was flustered and tried to give the King his money back.  Eddard smiled and clapped the man on the back as they left.  “Keep the fair my good man.  You earned it with the tasty treat” the new King told the grateful man.  They left the man with a big wide grin on his face. 

It was time to move on.  They moved down the Dragon Tail Pathway till they came to the Hook.  They walked down this street looking at the many various styles of buildings that lined the road.  They moved at a steady pace.  Some of the citizens called out to the new King and wished peace upon him and long live his just and fair line of heirs.  Eddard wondered if they would speak thus in a year.  In that, only the future would tell.  He would strive to fulfill the initial bloom of his reign.

They walked to the Muddy Way and took it down to the Street of Steel where the roads intersected.  They were just above Fishmonger Square and the River Gate.  The group looked around at the busy commerce that was all around them.  The smell of fish and shellfish thick in the air.  Many herbs and spices added tang to the air.  Many vendors making meals for the local populace to consume on the spot.  Others were preparing food for consumption further away in more distant parts of King’s Landing.  Eddard knew some of the catch was to be put on ice or smoked and sent to the small villages and crofts near the city.

The men and Arya watched the busy back and forth bustle of everyday life and the vitality that humans always created when they came together.  The King looked around.  How he wished that men could always live thus.  He thought back nearly twenty years ago.  A look of sadness filled his face.  Such a waste.  So many lives snuffed out.  Too many by his own sword.  The death of his sweet sister. 

Eddard looked over at Arya as she looked at bins of clams, snails, muscles and oysters.  The bins heaped high with the shellfish.  His daughter asking the merchants and genuinely listening to the men and women.  She was clearly interested in what they had to tell her.  Eddard thought his daughter had the common touch that Lyanna had also had.

He hoped to make a better world for all.  Not only for the race of men but for the Children of the Forest and the Giants that lived beyond the Wall.  He was starting to form heretical thoughts about the Wildlings who also resided beyond the wall.  Were they not of the human race?  Was it really so bad they did not bend the knee.  Did he need such obeisance from all?  _Did he_?  He looked around at the men and women around.  Only by the happenstance of birth did he rule and not they.  Eddard shook his head.  Such strange thoughts.

The group slowly started up the Street of Steel.  The four men of the honor guard spread out subtly to create a small buffer around their king.  Many did not notice them really.  They had no standards raised up of the Direwolf.  No regalia was on their breastplates.  They looked like yet another group of armed men that moved around for mutual protection.  The further they traversed from the Red Keep, the less people recognized their new King. 

Some did recognize their new king though and called out to him.  Eddard returned their salutations with a wave of his hand and nod of the head.  He needed no ostentatious displays in either direction.  He was their sovereign now but would never truly feel it.  He had become King to serve. 

With strong measured steps they moved slowly along the road that slowly gained elevation as it rose to circle along the side and then around the back of Visenya’s hill.  The hill that had atop it the The Great Sept of Balor.  The main edifice in Westeros to the new gods.  The gods that Eddard Stark did not believe in.  He had no use for the usurpers and the heretical beliefs that they espoused.  He thought disdainfully for this new religion.  The religion of Essos.

A stray thought occurred to Eddard.  In fact, though he did not show it, the thought hit the new King like a sledgehammer. 

Had not the Children of the Forest thought the same thing when men from Essos first came to their land?  These invaders, interlopers, who invaded their land and brought heretical beliefs.  Beliefs and outright greed that had led to unending warfare and the slaughter of the original denizens of this land.  Had not his very House been key in their demise and the destruction of the Weirwood trees and the sacred grooves the Children of the Forest needed for their strength and power?  Winterfell had been constructed to deny the original inhabitants access to the Weirwood tree enclosed within Winterfell’s walls.  That tree very scared to the Children of the Forest. 

Yes, Eddard reflected sadly in his soul.  Had not House Stark committed genocide?

That was a bitter pill to swallow for the proud man.  Eddard Stark was filled with gall that his family had committed such atrocities against the people had lived in Westeros first.  He was sure his ancestors and the ancestors of other Houses had come up with many noble sounding reasons for their warfare against the Children of the Forest.  The truth was sadly evident to Eddard.  We had wanted the land of the original holders for ourselves.  Plain and simple.  Genocide was committed and, thus, no more problem.

These thoughts sickened the new King to his stomach.  He would make it right.  He had too.  He first had to secure the whole realm to achieve what was necessary though.  He had much bigger concerns than any House south of the Wall.

Winter was coming.

And with it the Ice King.  The ancient Wright had returned.  Now, there were no more Children of the Forest to oppose and stop him and any army he had formed.  He would find a way.  Finding a way, when all seemed lost, was a specialty he had developed Eddard thought to himself.  He merely had to find one more way. 

The man shook off his thoughts to prevent melancholy from sitting in.  He looked at the establishments that lined the Street of Steel at the beginning of the road.  Here the businesses catered to the needs of the fisherman that worked and lived in this section of King’s Landing.  The homes and business that lined the river bank between the river and the walls of King’s Landing.

The metal used was cheap but that was enough.  The metal to make cages to catch lobster and octopus with fish seeding the traps.  Metal used to make the tongs and digging tools that the shell fisher men used to harvest oysters from the reefs, muscles from those same reefs and along the sides of rocks at low tide and clams from the sandy flats at low tide.  Sinker weights, hooks and the metal gears and turn winches used to create the apparatuses to catch crabs and fish in the river and bay.

Many other small metallurgical businesses made the items that daily life needed.  The pots and pans to cook your meals.  The utensils to eat the fare.  The nails and screws used to construct their homes.  The nails and tacks to make and repair their cheap but well-made furniture.  The shops small.  These shops made large quantities making a small profit on each item but made up for it by the bulk numbers they sold each day.  Further up the road the items created were more refined and not necessary for the immediate needs of daily life.  Therefore, the cost slowly rose as the road rose in elevation.

As the street rose up in elevation and left the flood plain behind the quality of the shops improved and the size was larger.  Here higher profits allowed these masters of their craft to improve the lot of their lives.  Here they had hope for a higher station in life.  In these establishments many of the items were still for common use but the metal was of higher quality and the workmanship more refined.  Her a spoon was beyond just the most basic of shape and utilitarian design.  Here the spoon was larger and more curved and polished.  Maybe scroll work on the eating implement. 

This was where the ‘middle class’ shopped for their needs.  People with higher disposable income to spend.

Varys had been giving Eddard full reports on King’s Landing. The neighborhoods and their economic status.  The businesses and the men and surprisingly a few women had accumulated some great amount of wealth.  He especially wanted to know of the poorer sections of the City.  Flee Bottom was a warren of small cramped buildings that all the previous rulers had not even thought of.  They had no power to bring them down.  But maybe they had the power to lift one up. 

The narrow streets made for poor sanitation.  There were few water pumps and the citizens had to walk far to get their water.  This land was somewhat like Winterfell.  The few water wells and their pumps were natural artesian wells.  The pressure from rock and flowing water brought the water up to the citizens.  No effort had been made for more.  The filth was left to gather and rot. 

There were always many seeking employment.  Nascent ideas were coalescing in Eddard’s subconscious.  Those nascent entwined ideas slowly worming their way to this conscious.  He had hopes.  Only the future would tell.

The party continued their slow walk up the rising thoroughfare.  The shops now catered to the high middle class and the two high income districts of King’s Landing.  One on both sides of the Old Gate with one end running to near the area called Cobbler’s Square and the other end near the old Dragon Pit.  One of the women on his list of citizens who had accumulated great wealth according to Varys was Chataya and her incestuous daughter wife Alayah.  Eddard had had to ask Varys again for that to be repeated.

“Oh yes.  They hide it from common knowledge but all their whores know it and so do my sparrows.  I must say that their whorehouses are by far my most requested spots my female sparrows request.  Some of my male sparrows go to the whore houses that cater to the male homosexual desires and –ahem— older women who want a young stallion in their bed.” 

The Whisperer had wanted to whisper to Eddard all the sordid details but Eddard had put a stop to that.  Sometimes running away was a great strategic strategy.   

The other rich area of King’s Landing was the section that was behind his destination for today actually.  The area behind the Visenya’s Hill with the Great Sept of Balor atop it.  This section ran from the Lion’s gate along  the curtain wall down to the King’s gate.  The first section had formed soon after the creation of the city.  It was filled with nobility and merchants that had traveled with the Targaryens and their Baratheon allies at the founding of the City of King’s Landing.  There also had been some of Dorne seeking new opportunities and aligning themselves to the new King after the cessations of hostilities. 

The section behind the Sept of Balor had grown with the growth of the merchant classes and emigres form other parts of Westeros and from the Free Cities primarily seeking a new life.  To find opportunity to improve their station.  It was these sections of King’s Landing that supplied the clientele for these shops on the Street of Steel.  Here the smiths forged the fine eating utensils and cutting knives that adorned their dining rooms and kitchens.  These knives made of the same steel that Eddard had in his sword.  Other metals also used.  Metals such as gold, silver, bronze and copper.  Metals to show one’s wealth and status.

Here buttons were not made of tin or pot belly steel but of the richest most expensive of metals and adorned with precious stones.  Walking canes and the handles of umbrellas were made of ivory, gold and silver were richly carved.  Statues of all shapes and sizes were created here.  The statues were actually banks of a sort.  The wealth of the family melted and shaped into the shapes of their desires.  Not only were visitors impressed with the artistry of the statues creations of gilded metal but the wealth of the family preserved.  The visitors also took into the account the gold and silver in those statues.  The visitors seeing the great wealth of those they were visiting. 

Eddard shook his head at such ostentatious displays of wealth.  Why did so many worry so over such trivial things as the display of wealth and trying to show dominance over their peers?  What was so lacking in the human spirit?  The new King did not have the answers.  He could only strive to create a better world for all. 

The road still climbed gently in elevation.  Finally, the group had reached the beginning of the shops that catered to their class.  The class of the Warrior.  The first shops made the implements of war for the common man who was called to arms by his Lord.  The Lord taking the expense to arm the men who he would call to his banner.  The weapons here were made in mass and made of low quality steel primarily.  Here lances and halberds were made in profusion to arm the foot soldier to defend themselves from knight cavalry charges.  Here the armor was only made to protect from glancing blows and longbow shots from distance.

Swords made in these shops were to be used to hack wildly and getting nicks was of no import.  Long term use was not important.  Surviving the campaign and going home to your farm or small business was the paramount concern.  These weapons were not crafted for the man or woman who had dedicated their lives to the very arts of war and mayhem.  This party moving up the Street of Steel were such persons.

The party of the new King walked on.  Their steps taking them up the rising road.  The quality of the shops rapidly improving.  None of these had interest to Eddard Stark.  He wanted the best.  He was nearing the end of the Street of Steel and approaching the residence of Tobho Mott and his smithy establishment he had named Quant Enigmas of Qohor.  Eddard had visited this place before.  He was here to again do business of both a personal nature but he was also on another quest.

They were before Tobho's house now.  Eddard looked at the imposing and yet pleasing edifice before him.  It was made of timber and plaster.  It was larger than all other buildings on the Street of Steel. Its upper stories towered over the street.  This impressed visitors while also putting a slight sense of unease in them.  The mere towering presence of his establishment seemingly hanging over the street gave the man an advantage from the beginning in the haggling of the price for his work.  Varys had told Eddard that Tobho lived above his shop.

The double doors leading into his business were of ebony and Weirwood carving of a hunting scene. Two stone knights armored in red suits of armor in the shapes of a griffin and a unicorn guarded the entrance.  The man was standing by the door.  He was tall with hair that was beginning to show streaks of grey.  He had the arms and chest of a man who had spent life working the bellows to the fire pits for the forging of metal and then swinging the heavy hammers used to fashion steel.

He had dark blue eyes.  These eyes now eyed the new King coming to his establishment.  The Master Blacksmith was wearing his black velvet coat which had silver hammers embroidered on the sleeves. A large sapphire hung on a heavy silver chain about his neck.  Varys had reported all this to the King.  Tabho had not been wearing his traditional garb for some reason on his first visit to his establishment.

Eddard walked up to the taciturn man who looked at him coolly.  Eddard was not sure why he seemed stand offish this time.  He had not been like this on his first visit.  Tabho was known for being stubborn but very loyal to his staff.  He employed several slim serving girls in the house. Journeymen and apprentices, such as Gendry, worked in his shop, a cavernous stone barn behind the house.  The staff all had rooms located in his house.  The man treated his staff like they were his family.  The man had never married and, thus, Eddard assumed these men and woman were indeed his family.

“I see you have come back to visit my humble business.  I am always happy to serve the King of Westeros.”

Eddard still detected a hint of angst and almost anger in the man.  Eddard looked off to the side.  Syrio and his daughter were already engaged with the workers of the smithy.  The two stood by one of the two main furnaces.  They watched intently while Gendry worked a raw iron ingot into the rough shape of a sword shaft the first strikes slowly elongating and flattening the still white hot metal.  The metal must be free of impurities Eddard noted as the strong bastard son of Robert Baratheon had made little progress in bending the metal to its desired shape.  He was taking it back to the furnace as apprentices worked the bellows.

The former Warden of the North could not help but smile hearing Gendry say “please” “thank you” and “your welcome” to the apprentices.  Arya was being shooed back by Gendry as she tried to put her nose in the furnace.  Syrio was as curious but more restrained.  He had never seen the creation of weapons before and he too was enamored of the process.  Eddard and Tobho drifted off to the side along with Eddard’s honor guard.

The Hound wondered around.  His curiosity had him looking at the bellows and tools.  He tried to hide his curiosity with a look of being aloof but Eddard saw the interest in Sandor’s eyes.  He turned back to give Tobho his attention.

“You have raised Gendry well Tobho.  He is very well mannered and he gives his work his total focus.”

“Yes I have.  You have come to take him from me haven’t you my new King.”

 _Ah_ thought Eddard.  _The heart of the matter between us_.  He looked into the man’s eyes and clearly saw the distress in them. 

“I will not lie to you Tabho.  I have not come to _take_ Gendry.  But.  I have come to give him his true dynasty back.  What he chooses to do with it is his own choice.  Are you willing to let Gendry choose his own path even if it is not the one you would have him choose?”

The man closed his eyes for a moment collecting himself.  “I want what is best for Gendry.  I always have.  I am sure he will choose to leave me and take on the royalty that you will offer him.  He is the son of the King” the man paused and hastened to add “the former king.”  Eddard laughed at the supposed fopaux.  They both chuckled but Tabor became serious again.  “I am assuming you are giving him his name back.”

“I am.  But I am also here for a job I want to commission you for.  I am told you learned to smith in Qohor.  That you learned the secrets of re-forging Valyrian steel from that distant land.”  The man nodded his head in acknowledgement.  Eddard liked that.  No unseemly boasting from this man.  “I hear that Ser Loras Tyrell and Lord Renly Baratheon are satisfied with your work.”

“I would agree they were most satisfied with my work.”  The words spoken as matter of fact.  No boasting.

Eddard then spent the next ten minutes telling Tabho Mott what he had planned. 

“Can you do it?” Eddard asked the blacksmith.

The man gave him a look that said ‘how dare you ask that question’.  “I can do what you ask.  There is sufficient material.  I am impressed with your generosity.”

“I consider it a fair payment.”

“Be that as it may; I am still impressed.

Eddard gave the master smith a squint smile.

“I will be able to start when you provide what I need.”

“I will have it brought to you in the near future Master Tabho.  It is time.”

The two men stepped back into the main smithy.  Eddard felt the heat of the furnaces on his face as he approached the main blast furnace that Gendry was working at.

“Is Gendry as good as he appears to be Tabho?”

“He is my King.  I would bequeath my business to him when the time comes.  Alas.”

Eddard kept his peace.  He had to offer Gendry Waters his destiny.  It was the right thing to do for Gendry.  It was time to take the stain of bastardy from the now young man.  They walked up to furnace. 

“How many times do I have to tell you to back up girl” Gendry bellowed at Arya.

“Shut up you big buffoon.  I want to see!”

“You won’t be calling me names when you get a piece of coke in your hair and it goes whoosh!  Soon to be bald headed girl.”

“Shove it you oversized twerp.”

“Or a sliver of metal in your eye.  Then no more you pretending to be a sword wielder.  Ha!”

“I will tan your ass with the flat of my blade!  You big oaf!  You probably move like a pregnant moose from the North.”

“I would disarm you so fast your eyes would fall out.  Then I would spank your impudent ass!”

Syrio was standing off back two feet enjoying the interchange.

“I see your big Warhammer against the wall” Arya told the tall young man nodding her head toward the weapon.  “ _Puuulleeasseeee_!  Everyone knows that weapon sucks!”

Gendry growled in anger. 

Eddard walked up to get between the two antagonists.  “Arya.  Let’s control your temper.  Gendry’s caution near the bellows is wise.”

Arya fumed and moved down the stalls to another stall and shoved her face forward to where it probably shouldn’t be observing and asking questions.

Syrio had paused before following his student.  “She is like the towel.  She absorbs all that she sees and hears.  She is curious about her environment and the world around her.  Such a rare gift.  Her mind is sharp.  Like a tack.  I will hone it further.”  He then walked down the stalls to his student.

Eddard turned to look at Tabho Mott and Gendry Waters.

“Gendry.  I think you know after our last visit who your father was.  It is time that you and all your half siblings assume your true destiny.  I have come to give you your last name back.  You and all the bastard children of Robert Baratheon will no longer be denied your birth right.  From this day hence forth you are of the House Baratheon.

Beside Gendry, Tabho had tears shimmering in his eyes.  He played nervously with the large blue sapphire that hung around his neck on its silver chain.  The gem moving between his fingers.  The man had resigned himself to losing the young man he had come to think of as a son.  The son who would take his business when it was time for him to retire.

The tall young man looked down at Eddard.  “So I would become a prince of House Baratheon.  I would be in line for the throne.”

“Yes.  You would.  Do you wish to challenge me?” Eddard asked the young man.  Eddard was not sure where Gendry was taking this.  He had to know that he had no chance against him.

“I will take my last name back.  That I thank you for Eddard Stark.  It will nice to not have the name ‘Water’.  I will relish no longer being shamed for an act that I had no control over.”

He bowed to Eddard.  Eddard looked back with a slight smile.  He was happy to give the boy what had always been his.

“That is all I want my King.  What you offer me is merely a name.  I have no care for the Iron Throne.  You can have it.”  The almost man turned to look at Tabho.  “I would hope that my true father Tabho Mott will still keep me in his employ.  He is the man who was there when I was growing up.  He is the man that held me when I was hurt as a child.  He is the man that taught me my craft and taught me how to be a man.  I would hope that this has changed nothing with you Taboo.”  Gendry moved closer to the man he thought of as his father.  “I have always thought of you as my father and forever shall.”  Gendry looked at the master smith with intense glittering eyes.

Eddard knew that Tabho was not a man to cry but he was crying now.  He and Gendry embraced and hugged each other tight.  Tabho was a big man but Gendry was larger.  He enfolded the older man in his arms tenderly.  They embraced fully embracing the love the two had for each other.  The love of a father for his son and the return of emotion equally true.

Eddard had moved off to join his daughter and Syrio to observe the armory smiths at work.  He wanted to give Tabho and Gendry privacy. 

Ten minutes later it was time to leave.  Arya gave Gendry a raspberry and the tall offspring of Robert Baratheon gave his daughter the bird.  The two hot headed youths glared at each other.

As soon as they had left Quant Enigmas of Qohor Arya seemed to forget all about her rancor with Gendry.  She had learned what she wanted.  She did not look back once to see if Gendry was looking at them.  He was.  Eddard had wondered if maybe Arya was attracted to the young man.  It would seem she was not.  Eddard looked at his daughter.  He again wondered about his daughter and what she thought of love and who she saw as a good mate.

Of late, Eddard become more sure he knew where his daughter’s affections lie.  He took a deep breath.  He found he did not truly care who Arya was attracted to and wanted as a mate.  Cat he knew would have other ideas.  He had much to explain to his wife when they finally met again.

In a way Eddard thought to himself with a chuckle he was off the hook.  In taking an apprenticeship with Syrio, all such concerns were now his problem.  It was not a problem but it would cause thorny issues.  Eddard had thought of late that Arya was lucky to be Syrio’s apprentice.  Essos had a much more liberal attitude.  The Free cities had much in common with Dorne.

He just wondered how he was going to break all this to Catelyn.  Eddard grimaced at that thought.  He could not wait to be reunited with his wife.  In this though, a little more time would be favorable.  He would have to deal with his wife and her sure to be demands.  The “Sansa issue” would also be thorny.  His wife would probably feel even more harshly towards Sansa.  Eddard knew in time he would forgive Sansa but he was not sure about Catelyn.  Her treatment of Jon had shown him the rancor his wife was capable of holding onto.

On the way back they detoured down a side road.  All were curious Eddard could tell.  They turned into a brothel that was owned by Petyr Baelish.  Eddard suppressed a smile.  He felt the confusion with all the people in his entourage.

“Could you please call down Mhaegen and her smile child Barra.”  The madam running the sitting room blanched but bowed her head.  She walked with an unsteady gate and looked back at Eddard with raw terror in her eyes.  She slowly walked upstairs.

Eddard was confused by the reaction.  The woman looked like she was about to be executed.   

Suddenly, there was screams of terror and wails of bereavement coming from the second floor.  Startled the party surged upstairs in a rush.  Now all the whores were wailing like banshees.  _What the hell is wrong_! Eddard thought to himself as he stormed up the stairs to come to the damsels—whores defense from whatever was assaulting them.  He and his honor guard had pulled their swords.  Even Arya had her Needle out ready to fight.

It was easy to see which room belonged to Mhaegen.  Four whores were in doorway.  They acted as if they would block the wall of warriors coming at them. 

The Hound growled “Oh bloody hell … probably on their periods” he started to move forward to bull the whores out of the way.

“NO!” Eddard shouted.  The new King surged forward to get in front of his entourage and held his hand out for them to hold back.  He had not really been thinking.  Of course the whores were over reacting.  The new King of a different blood line had suddenly appeared in their brothel asking for Mhaegen.  _Damnit_ Eddard groused at himself.  I know my intentions but they do not!  I should have thought of that.  I must not make these kind of mistakes in the future.  I have caused upset where none need have been.  _Damnit_!

With the reactions around him Eddard realized he had to think through everything he did and said in public through the filter of him being the person who sat on the Iron Throne.  The populace, Nobles and merchants would all take his words as the King who sat on the Iron Throne.  The last ones had been very poor and capricious.  They would tend to react to him as if he was like their past sovereigns.

He needed to change his actions he took day by day.  He needed to see his thoughts and actions by how they would be taken by the general populace.  The assumptions and supposed insights to their King’s thinking.

He slowly moved forward.  He sheathed his sword as he advanced.  The whores blocking the doorway looked at him fearfully.  They knew that even if they dared to physically stand up to the King and his party they had no chance.  They were doomed to stop him from his goal.  He slowly came into view of the doorway standing back from the women at the lintel.  He saw Mhaegen clutching Barra fiercely to her bosom.  She was surrounded by five whores wringing their hands.  The women looked at Eddard with terror in their eyes.

Mhaegen’s eyes locked with Eddard’s.  “Please!  Don’t hurt my baby!  Take my life but spare hers!”

Spoken like a true mother Eddard thought.  He realized that even Cersei as selfish as she was had made the same offer.

Slowly cocking his head to look at the closest whore to him Eddard spoke to her in a gentle voice.

“What is your name?” Eddard asked with a soft smile on his face.

“Sanya.”

With a slow deliberate motion Eddard bent down to one knee.  Looking at Mhaegen he spoke to Sanya.

“Take my sword very slowly out of my scabbard on my back and place it on the floor with the blade facing me.”

The woman looked at him fearfully but moved forward when her King looked up at her with an encouraging smile.  She moved to comply.

“Why the blade towards you?”

“I would cut myself if I went to use it.  I am not here to cause any harm today.  I wish but to talk.”

The whore had did as requested.  She looked at Eddard with a mixture of fear and now awe.

“Everyone else put your swords on the ground in the same manner.”  To their credit, none of his honor guard asked any questions.  They followed the lead of their King without hesitation.  All knew that they were in absolutely no danger in this situation.  Eddard was working to make the whores feel safe was well.

In a few seconds all of the King’s men, Arya and her sword instructor were disarmed.  They stood still not sure what their King was trying to accomplish.

“Mhaegen.  I am not here to harm your baby.  I should have thought of how this would appear to you and your fellow wh—workers.  Can I stand?  My sword will remain on the floor.”

A weak “You can stand” was heard from the room.

Eddard stood slowly and gave all the whores around him his best squint smile.

“I must ask for your forbearance.  I did not mean to cause alarm nor I am here to cause harm.”  He looked at Mhaegen clutching her baby to her bosom.  “I have come Mhaegen to say that I grant Barra the right to her last name.  From this moment henceforth she will be known as Barra Baratheon.”  A thought occurred to Eddard.  “If you so choose.  I will provide a royal stipend for you to raise your daughter with the rights she was born with.  If you wish I will take you onto my staff as a chambermaid or other job you have the skills for, or, you can remain here.  Being a whore is an honorable profession.”

All the whores were quiet now looking at Eddard with wonder now.  Mhaegen still looked fearful.

Slowly Eddard rose up his hands out palms up.  He took small steps into the room.

“Can I hold her?  Barra is most beautiful.”

The woman hesitantly handled Eddard her child.  Eddard knew the woman felt she had no choice.  He smiled down at the baby and tickled her chin.  The baby smiled and cooed.  Eddard commented on the baby’s dark black hair.  The Whores not realizing the slight humor in the remark.  The whores visibly relaxed.  They watched this new King walk around rocking a bastard baby as if she was his.  He smiled and laughed at the baby playing with his fingers now. 

He asked Mhaegen to join him.  She hesitantly came over to her King.  Soon she relaxed.  Eddard gave her child back.  The other whores came up to the King and mother to talk and play with the baby.  All now relaxed and talking freely.  

He talked more with the mother.  The decision on how to proceed with her life and the child’s would start now Eddard told her.  He gave her a small bag with gold dragons.  “This is the first monthly stipend.  I will support all the children and their mothers who have had children of Robert Baratheon.  From this time going forward Robert Baratheon has no more bastards.

Soon he left the whore house of Petyr Baelish.  The whores talked much on this strange man who was now their King.  True honor and compassion was such a rare thing.  Was it genuine?  Would it continue?  Only the future would tell but they had hope.

//////////

Eddard was in the small meeting room that was near the small council chamber.  He liked the small intimate size of the room.  It had a small desk that he sat behind.  On it was the financial reports that Varys had pulled from Petyr’s office of the Master of Coin. 

The new king’s head was spinning.  He was not much for accounting and the way money could be dealt with through subterfuge and back channels.  He had always been straight forward in his management of money. Account for the taxes that came in and try and not spend beyond that and if possible save a little money each season to meet any unexpected emergencies.

What he was reading on these byzantine sheets of parchment was not that.  He was not sure exactly what he was reading except for that it was all chancery and outright lies.  The realm of Westeros was in serious trouble.  The Iron Throne was in debt up to its ass.  Unfortunately, the level of debt was much higher than that area of one’s body.  Eddard would have had to stand on his toes if it was water.

How could Robert have allowed this to happen!   Was he blind?  Did Cersei have him do it?  With a start Eddard stopped that thinking.  He would not blame Cersei merely for being Robert’s Queen.  He knew his old friend’s appetites for all things sensual and carnal.  Robert simply lived life to excess.  It had been in his nature sadly.

With a soft sigh of parchment on wood Eddard sat the sheet down.  He had had enough bad news for this reading session.  _What to do_?  The debt to the Iron Bank was astronomical.  It was actually frightening.  There was also a mountain of debt owed to Casterly Rock but Eddard had plans for that.

He could only think of one person with the mind and the twisted ethics to work out this problem.  The problem is he might have to execute Tyrion Lannister.  As time had gone by, he was almost sure now he was innocent of what his wife had accused him of.  He had no part in the attempts on Bran’s life.

He grimaced.  Getting his wife to see that might prove problematic.  With a sigh and smirk Eddard wondered how he preferred sword combat with the real possibility of death as a fairer risk than confronting his wife when she was sure she was right.  With Robert dead he had no more reason to hold the truth from her about Jon. 

He hoped he still had a marriage after that.

There was a knock on the door.  The raps almost respectful Eddard mused.  He paused and heard grumbling from the other side.  The Hound had indeed come barking.  A Hound could only be silent so long it seemed.  Eddard stood up and went to the door and opened it.

“Come in Sandor.”

Sandor stood there.  He eyed Eddard warily.  He looked down at his feet.  “Come in Sandor” the Eddard spoke again and motioned for Sandor to enter the small meeting room.  The tall disfigured man came through the door.  The man made eye contact with Eddard and then looked away.

“Please come in and sit down friend.”  Eddard pointed at a chair at the small table that allowed for six person to sit around it.

He saw the shock cross Sandor’s face.  A sarcastic remark sprang to the man’s lips Eddard saw but he swallowed it roughly.  Eddard joined the man at the table sitting across from Sandor.

“Have you made your decision?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“I accept.”

A small smile came on Eddard’s face.  “This is good.  I will ask that you begin to consider the six men … or women you might want to put on the Kingsguard.”

He saw the man almost guffaw at that.  He almost sneered at his King but again fought it down.

Eddard was impressed.  The man was actually trying.  Eddard decided to play with the man.  He had a few parchments on the table and he started to pretend that he was reading them with rapt interest.  He saw Sandor squirm in his seat.  This quiet time and trying to be respectful was obviously trying on the man.

“Ah … ahem … is there anything else …” Sandor asked in an uncomfortable voice.

Eddard put down his parchment satisfied with getting over on Sandor.  He was even more uptight than myself Eddard reflected.  He was not sure that was a positive.

“I have made some changes to the Kingsguard.”

Sandor shot out of his chair rigid and upright.

“I knew it!  I knew it!  You did this just to screw me over!  Damnit it!  Why did I trust you?  Why did I think you would be any different?!  …”

“Sandor” Eddard called out.  Eddard stood and made placating gestures at the upset man.  The man continued to rant and swallow curses “SANDOR!”  That got the man’s attention Eddard smirked.

“Don’t be so negative for the old gods’ sake.  Let me finish.”

Sandor glared at Eddard.  He fumed and snorted “Bollocks!” supposedly to himself.  He glared at Eddard waiting for his King to screw him over.

“I have removed certain requirements from the Kingsguard.”

“What!” Sandor jumped in still testy.

“I have removed the vow of chastity as I had told you.  You can marry now if you so choose.”  Sandor laughed bitterly at that.  Eddard felt for the man and the cruelty done to the man by his brother.  He had no words or comfort he could give.  He continued “I and Barristan are the only two who would keep such a vow.  The rest of the Kingsguard have always fucked like bunnies.  Same with the Maesters and the Septons and the Septas.  I am tired of lying about it.”

“Like I have to worry about that!”

Eddard did not try and argue with the man.  They both knew Sandor’s plight and the unfairness of life.

“I will no longer demand a lifetime of service.  It is stupid really.  Only Barristan has kept his vigor and prowess with his age.  I do not want cavalry fodder for mounted knights to chop down.  The Kingsguard can now have children and wives.  If one feels he can no longer perform his duties then he can resign.  If one’s peers think he is no longer capable of performing their duties a partition can be brought before the King and a judgement given.”

“I will not require such formal attire in the future.  That will be your call. You and your peers must have some easily identifiable mark but that will be sufficient.”

“I will require that you and your selections live and act honorably but I feel you will not have a problem with that.”  Eddard smiled and suppressed a chuckle at Sandor’s heavy drawing sigh and rolling of eyes.

Sandor took all this in with his usual ill grace.  An ill grace repressed by his standards.

“My, my.  You are just bringing in sweeping changes aren’t you my King” the Hound spoke in a chiding tone.  He clearly had his doubts about it all. 

Eddard liked Sandor’s sardonic ways.  As long as he did not get carried away and showed his liege the respect necessary in public Eddard was happy.  He suspected and hoped that with time Sandor’s surely attitude would improve.  Sandor hid it well but deep down he was a good honorable man.  Eddard just had to draw it out of him.  He would give Sandor reasons to want to improve.  He had read the man correctly.

“Yes I am Sandor.  For good or ill I am.  I will let the histories judge whether I chose rightly.

Sandor snorted.  “Bollocks!” he spoke under his breath.  Eddard thought it was a good start.

 


	25. Issues of Trust

Heir’s Apparent

Issues of Trust

 

The new king sat at his table and pondered his new kingdom.  He looked around the room he had chosen for his personal redoubt with its bare walls.  He wondered if he should have some tapestries arrayed on the wall.  The room was bleak.  He had the same feeling in his heart at the moment.  He was challenged with his new rule.  The burdens of the throne weighed heavy on his shoulders and his kingdom did not extend beyond the walls of King’s Landing.  His was an island kingdom that unfortunately was not an island.  Fingers tapped the desktop.

There was a polite knock on the door.

“Come in Varys.”

The door opened.  The Whisperer looked down at the new King.

“I would love to know how you do that.”

“A man has to keep his secrets Varys.  What news do you have for me this fine morning?”

“The Martell’s are coming.  I received two ravens.  Well three actually.  Doran says he accepts your offer but he would like to see guarantees as to how you can succeed.  He estimates you have maybe five percent chance of success.”

“Well, at least the man is honest” Eddard quipped back.

“He frets that in sending Oberyn you will put House Martell in grave danger.  What you propose is dangerous.  Oberyn cannot see beyond his anger and need for revenge.”

“That is true.  I remember Oberyn back before Robert’s Rebellion.  He was always a hothead.  I am thankful that Dorne had played it close to the chest in that time.  I would not have wanted to meet the full forces of Dorne on the battlefield.  We would have lost.”  Eddard had that look on his face that Varys had come to learn was Eddard’s thoughts of a generation past. 

“My second raven received was from Oberyn himself.  He is most anxious to arrive and to take you up on the offer you present.  He too wonders how you will arrange the Crevasse pieces to make it occur.  Though he has grave doubts he has tired of waiting interminably.”

“The third raven was from my sparrows and the jackals they have roosted with.  They confirm the words I have just read you.  It would seem the brothers argued rather vociferously.  How did you know that Oberyn would win out?  Doran sits on the throne of Dorne.”

“Passion like what beats in Oberyn’s heart is a powerful force Varys.  From everything I had ever heard of the man he loved his older sister dearly.  This long delay in justice meted out has to have eaten at his heart like a canker.  I knew he would strike the lure of my offer.  He had too.”

Varys nodded at the man.  “I am most impressed Eddard.  I would never have guessed that you are so capable in the realm of the Game of Thrones.”

A sour look came over Eddard’s face that was followed by a smirk.  “Please, stop insulting me Varys.”

The two men continued discussing the new King’s plans and discussing fine points on strategy and the tactics to make it occur.

Eddard left the room and walked down the still strange halls of the Red Keep.  The red stone seemed strange and foreign to the man who had grown up among the dark granite of Winterfell or the milky stone of the Eyrie.  He walked down the halls looking at the tapestries that herald the dynasty of House Targaryen.  He stopped at tapestries that depicted the old holdfast of Valyria. 

The soaring spires and the buildings that seemed to morph and flow in strange directions.  He knew that they were not the imaginations of some mad artist.  Much had been lost when that ancient land erupted in violence and desolation.  Great had been its fall.  Eddard had stopped at a depiction of some pageant of dragons lined down some wide thoroughfare with more dragons winging overhead.  The king of Valyria astride a great blue dragon bulgingly into the air its head thrown up in triumph. 

The image seemed to jump off the woven fabrics.  He wondered if this was some artifact created from that fabled land.   The painting seemed somehow to have depth to it.  The ceremonial sword his family had, Ice, had been caste in forges in that doomed land.  He took a deep breath. 

The death of Valyria was sad but he could not shed a tear for that fabled land’s demise.  They were a cruel and despotic race.  King Aerys II Targaryen also exuded those traits of cruelty.  The man had been capricious in his pronouncements and willingness to resort to extreme violence.

He started to move down the hall again.  He turned the corner and he froze.  Walking down the hall he had just entered were his two daughters Arya and Sansa down at the other end.  They were talking quietly.  They had their heads slightly turned to look at each other as they moved slowly down the hall.  They were deep in conversation and had not noticed their father frozen at the intersection of the two halls down some ways from where they were deep in quiet conversation.

The new King was taken by how his two daughters spoke to each other.  They had before the Insurrection been not on speaking terms at all.  While their father did not think they truly hated each other he was not sure his daughters shared that same judgement of each other.  Now Eddard saw no rancor between them.  Their posture was relaxed with their slow steps up the hall towards their father.

The recent conflicts they had endured seemed to have changed the sisters.  Arya had been in the crucible of martial conflict.  She had come out of it tempered like steel.  She was confident and assured now.  Sansa, Eddard had come to understand, had been in her own crucible.  Constantly hammered by the pistil of Lannister cruelty and malice.

Eddard had heard the reports from Varys of the cruelty his eldest daughter had to endure.  She had survived the mental assaults.  She in her own way had resisted.  Squiring Joffrey with barbs that had enraged and sapped his will.  She had survived.  Still, she had not actively fought like his youngest daughter.  Arya had taken destiny by the throat and changed it to her liking.  Sansa had only endured.

Still, Eddard had started to wonder.  Had not Sansa done the most she could with the skills she had?  It made Eddard’s anger and hurt pause.  Varys had reported to the new King Sansa’s betrayal.  She had resisted after the fact the Whisperer reported.  She had not the means to resist physically but had done the best she could in her unwinnable situation.  “She really did as much as she could” Varys had told Eddard lately.  The Whisperer seemed to be trying to stress something.  Eddard was not sure he was ready to hear that yet.

 He observed his daughters walking down the hall.  Arya had started to wear a martial attire three days past.  Eddard had to admit Arya cut a dashing figure.  She had on a double layer leather vest cross stitched up horizontally on the front from her throat to her belt line.  The leather dark brown with a dark brown two inch belt belted with a buckle with tails hanging down.  Her shoulders had cuffs with more supple leather arms sleeves down to her wrist.  The arm slightly darker.

Arya had on a dark grey skirt down to her knees.  It was slit on both sides halfway to the hips.  She had the same dark brown leather as her leggings.  She had on short heeled boots that came up to her knees.  She looked like a Bravo with hints of Westerosi to her.  Eddard had to admit it looked good on his daughter.

She had a rapier and Needle sheathed in their scabbards on her right hip.  The pommels cross laid.  She pulled her blades cross draw.  On her left hip was a long dagger.  On each leg, through the slit Eddard saw throwing daggers strapped to Arya’s thighs.  She looked deadly.

Eddard noticed that Arya’s hair had a spikey look.  Her thick hair made it stand up.  It would be another inch or two before it began to lay flat.

Sansa by contrast was dressed every inch the Royal Princess.  Again Eddard thought the look totally fit his daughter who now was as tall as he was.  A fact that subtly bothered the man.  He had to admit it.  Did that affect his judgement of his daughter?  It couldn’t, could it?  Eddard was not sure and that bothered him greatly.  He knew he had to be a better man than that.

His tall redheaded daughter had on a deep navy blue dress that was almost black.  The dress had large shoulders and with a synch to the waist to show his daughter’s beautiful build.  The skirt down to the floor.  The middle of the dress from her shoulders had faceted light blue rectangular pleats that narrowed down to the waist.  The same design running down Sansa’s inner arms down to the wrists.

Her skirt in the middle had light blue fabric running from her stomach to the floor.  She had diamonds of light blue running from her stomach up and over her hips and down to the sacrum of her back.  She had puffed vertical rectangles of the light blue material fashioned to look like large buttons down the upper middle of her dress.

This was set offset by a lace black choker.  Sansa’s hair pulled back behind her ears with gold hoop earrings on. 

Eddard thought she was stunning.  She was as beautiful as her mother.  Eddard was thankful that Sansa had taken after her mother.  She would make any man proud to have her as his wife. 

The father felt his anger flare again at Sansa. Why had she betrayed him?!  He paused his steps down the hall. 

Eddard Stark was a brave man but he dearly wanted to turn around and flee down the hall he had just come down and duck in a door and let his daughters pass.  Yes, he was a brave man on the field of battle.  A sword or axe whistling at his head or heart he could deal with.  Complicated emotions that coursed through Eddard when he saw Sansa was something he was not handling very well.

He thought to turn tail and run but he would not do that.  He may feel extreme discomfiture being around his daughter now but he could not let that affect his ability to lead and meet a challenge.  He walked slowly down the hall towards Arya and Sansa who were talking with waving hands.  They looked up as he came down the hall towards them.  The stopped walking and their conversation ceased. 

The two daughters of Eddard turned to look at their father.  Arya made direct eye contact her back straight and her feet planted.  She had always been filled with the ‘wolf’ but her training with Syrio was giving Arya a new sense of confidence and belief in herself.  She radiated power and confidence now. 

The King pursed his lips.  He had noticed shortly after his taking the throne from the Lannisters the change in his daughters.  It quickly became evident that the events the two young women had endured had changed them.  Eddard easily accepted the fact that his two little girls were women now.  Sansa had grown the last year gaining four inches in height and her body filling out into a voluptuous woman with the classical measurements.

Arya still had a youngish and boyish caste to her features.  She in many ways still looked like a young preteen with her girlish features of flat chest and small bottom.  Her figure did not have the womanly swales that her older sister had.

No.  It was a mental maturity that made Arya seem mature now.  She had lead an Insurrection.  It had been her passion and willingness to take risks that had inspired the people around her to risk their lives to first save Eddard Stark and then place him on the throne.  She had the gift of charisma.  People just wanted to follow her lead.  But it was more than that.  Her air of maturity had much to do with experiences earned.  Arya had fought in combat and killed men with her own hand.  Arya was not an innocent anymore.  She was woman who had killed in combat.  That changed a person.  Made a person age.

With darting eyes the father took in his daughters.  He would never have believed it possible but it was clearly evident that Arya and her older sister had started to bond.  Their ordeals had given them a common thread to share and start to bring them together.  Were before there was rancor between the sisters one could now see the true beginnings of understanding and acceptance.

In fact, Arya was doing a much better job of that than her adult father.

Sansa was wilting before his eyes.  For some reason this angered Eddard.  Sansa had been the cause of Eddard’s capture and near beheading.  She had been the one to tell Cersei Lannister of his plans to flee King’s Landing and expose the truth of her children.  It had been Sansa that had betrayed him.  Not some spy or nefarious double agent.  It had been his own daughter and she did not have the strength of character or will to stand and look the father she had betrayed in the eyes.

The father felt his anger boiling over again.  He tried to control it but he failed miserable in the attempt.  Sansa saw his anger clearly on his face.  In his steel grey eyes igniting with ire.  He watched his eldest daughter’s lips begin to tremble and then she turned and fled down the hall from whence she had come.  Eddard felt a pang of guilt but his anger quickly subsumed that guilt. 

His daughter had betrayed him.  It was really that simple.  He watched the retreating form of his eldest slowly shrink as she ran down the long hall of the Keep.  Then she turned down a side hall and was gone.  Only then did he turn to face his younger daughter.  The daughter who had saved him.  The daughter whose own steel grey eyes burned with fire and rage.

“What the hell is your problem father?!” Arya spat at her father.

His eyes flared open as the father absorbed the words of his savoir.  Her tone of disrespect rankled the new King.  “I would remind you Arya that I am your father.”

“Yes.  You are.  But you are still acting like an ass.  No.  Worse yet.  You are acting like Cersei Lannister!”

“Don’t you ever compare me to that woman!  I have never done the cruel things that she had done” Eddard roared at the barb that hit home though he could not admit it.

“And yet you treat her better than you treat you own daughter.  Where is the justice in that I ask father?!”

That gave Eddard pause.  His mind worked out his answer.  He analyzed his thoughts and feelings.  After five seconds he responded to his youngest daughter “She is a conquered foe I have defeated on the field of combat.  Be it the field of Game of Thrones.  Cersei told me to play to win.  You gave me the second chance to do that daughter.  I am being magnanimous to my defeated foe.  It is called being honorable Arya.”

The fourteen year old mulled that over.  “Yes.  I again agree with that father but it does not excuse the way you are treating your own flesh and blood.  You treat your enemy better than your own daughter.  It disgusts me.”

Eddard now felt his dander rising up.  He did not like this new side of Arya but he had to accept it.  She was a woman now.  She had her own thoughts and sensibilities.  He did not agree with them in this matter.  It did not mean that it didn’t piss him off.  The new King narrowed his eyes controlling his ire.

“Let me ask you something Arya.  Youngest daughter of my body.  Did you betray me?”

“You know the answer to that question father.”

“Would you have ever told Cersei my plans and actions?”

“You know I would not.”

“Yet your sister who is three years older than you did.  She was besotted with that boy who is clearly a mean little shit.  We both saw it upon our arrival here.  Why could not Sansa?”

“Because of mother.”

Eddard could see that.  Catelyn was always preaching to Sansa on how to be a lady.

“Because of her father.”

“WHAT!  That is a fucking lie!  Take that back!”   Eddard was completely blindsided by this pronouncement by his youngest daughter.  Where had she gotten that notion?  “You insult me!”

Arya locked eyes with her father.  Her demeanor placid like the way her father normally comported himself.  “Does the truth hurt that much father?  I find the truth self-evident.”

The way Arya made these comments so calm and measured gave Eddard pause.  In a way Arya was starting to unsettle Eddard.  To have her so calmly announce her pronouncements with her steady eyes that were a mirror image of his own gave the new King pause.

With several deep breaths Eddard calmed his ire yet again.  He felt his body shaking but with will calmed his body.

“Okay Arya.  I have calmed down.  Please explain your rational.  I totally reject what you have just said.”

Arya looked away.  She herself took a deep breath.  It was evident she too was controlling her own anger.

“I have always had a big advantage over Sansa.  Jon and I both had it growing up.  Our mother never accepted us.  With Jon it was his bastard heritage.”  She saw her father wince.  “With me it was more subtle.  I have always been different.  I have never accepted the role that mother gave me.  I fought her tooth and nail.  I suffered from mother’s bile and ire.  It made me strong.”

“Not so with Sansa.  She was what mother always wanted.  But even that was not enough.  Mother has never been free with her praise father.  You know this.  She loves us all fiercely and would lay her life down for her children but she almost never gives a hug or says I love you.”

Eddard heard the words and immediately saw the truth in them.  He and Cat were both taciturn people.  They were not given to showing or displaying affection.  Cat was too fierce and her sense of duty to focused for it.  For himself, Eddard knew he was awkward and shy with his emotions.  He had supported his children but he knew that he too was guilty of what Arya had said.  He would not deny it now that he saw it.

“Again I must say okay Arya.  You have a point.  Your mother and I are not overly affectionate and your mother is driven by her Tully sense of duty and accepting burdens but this does not make Sansa’s failures our fault.  She is a young woman now who must shoulder the responsibilities of her own decisions.”

“On the surface, those words are true and just but they belie the truth of the situation.” Arya paused.

Her father cocked an eyebrow asking her to continue.

“Mother enforced a faery tail reality upon Sansa.  Sansa being easy natured and” Arya sighed “I must say it—a little slow in her ability to handle hard reality.  We both know father life can be full of shit.  Sansa avoided that at all cost.  Her mentors forced that upon her.  Mother forced Sansa to be the perfect maid and so the perfect maid she became.  She was supposed to fall in love with Joffrey.  So she did.  Even if he is a little shit!”

Eddard snorted at that.  It was funny.  Truthful and funny.  His humor died remembering that faery tale had nearly gotten him killed.

“Sansa had been prepared from the cradle to believe all those stupid minstrel songs that are full of shit themselves.  I have fought in battles now father.  The minstrels never sing of the screams of the dying, the raw fear of dying.  Seeing limbs severed and men trying to hold in their guts from cut bellies.  The smell of offal and death.  I have always lived in the reality of life.  Sansa has lived in the make believe world of minstrel songs.”

“If she dare stray from those ludicrous lyrics mother was right there to berate her back into submission.  When she tried to do that with me I fought back.”

Eddard again breathed deep.  He was following Arya so far.

“I fought back and though you complained and cried out I was filled with the wolf like your sister had been before me you always supported me.  You kept mother at bay.  You allowed me to be me even if you groused the whole time.”

Eddard had to smile at that.

“Your support meant everything to me.  You did not give Sansa that support.”

That whipped the smile from Eddard’s face.  He did not like Arya turning her ire on him.  “I don’t see your point Arya.  Sansa never fought back.”

“Exactly father.  Mother cowed and made her into a puppet.  Sansa was afraid to be anything else.  That is why we always fought so much.  I saw her subjugation and it angered me she did not fight back.  You should have stepped in to protect Sansa and Jon because they would not fight for themselves.  They accepted the status quo and that was good enough for you.  It is the father’s duty to protect his children.  All of his children.  Even if it is from their own mother.”

Eddard eyes narrowed.  He was a fair man.  He looked at Arya’s words from all angles trying to see it from Arya’s viewpoint.  He paused considering.  He weighed what he had just heard.  He did not like how the scales of justice were tipping.  Still, he was in the right.  He had to be Eddard thought.  He had done what he did for the right reasons he reasoned. 

He sighed again.

“I hear you words Arya. … I don’t agree with them but I can see it from your viewpoint.  I did the best I could at the time.  I did not see the need to come Sansa’s defense because I saw no conflict.  With you I saw the conflict and turmoil and I acted.  Arya, I can’t read minds.  I love your mother and I think she has raised her children well.  She may have made mistakes but all parents make mistakes they would undo …” Eddard looked off into the distance.

Now was not the moment but he knew that soon he must confess the true parentage of Jon.  Robert was dead. 

“Sansa is still responsible for her actions but I will consider your words.  Perhaps she was molded to be …. susceptible to fairytales.  I don’t know Arya.  I am terribly hurt by Sansa’s betrayal.  It is as simple as that.  I will think on this more daughter.”

With locked eyes Arya looked into her father’s soul.  The eyes are the portal to the soul.

“I know you will father.  Sansa was a child.  A little girl caught in a world she was not prepared for.  I can see that.  I forgive her.  She has grown.  I can see it.  I would hope that the father that I emulate could do the same.  You did let her down father.  Whether or not you see it.  You were not there for her when she truly needed you to become what she is meant to be.  You shirked that responsibility.”

With that Arya Stark turned and walked down the hall that she had come up.  Ready to meet the challenges of her life.

Eddard watched her walk away.  His soul in turmoil.  He watched his daughter depart with shoulders squared and head held high.  She truly was becoming a warrior.  She had already become a woman.  She would never shirk from fear or turn away from what must be done.  She had raised the ugly truth between them.  Her remarks had hit home with unerring aim.  Eddard resumed walking down the hall.  He wondered at himself.  He knew what the “right” thing to do was.  The thing that the Septons would say.  What the scripture would say.  Forgive. 

With slow measured steps Eddard Stark the King of Westeros walked down the hall with head bowed.  He was in a way at war with himself.  He was at heart a forgiving man.  A man who tried to see the best in people.  To try and make the best of the situation.  He had done this his whole life.  In following that ethos, it had nearly cost him his life.

He paused in his steps and his thoughts.

His mind again made the only association it could.  The reason his life was put in jeopardy was because of his daughter.  If she had kept quite then he and his family would have slipped out of King’s Landing and arrived back in Winterfell safe and sound.  Cersei was not really much of a strategic thinker.  He would have made good his escape. 

Instead, Sansa had told Cersei his plans.  It was inconceivable to him that his own daughter could be so naïve or dare he think it; stupid.  Everyone could see what a schemer and how maniacal Cersei Lannister was in her pursuit of her goals.

His thoughts whirled around inside him like gyre.  Arya’s words came back to him.  “Sansa lives in a fairytale world”.  Eddard had blithely told Sansa his plans but did he once tell her that she needed to keep his plans a secret.  That if word of his plans got out that it could lead to calamity.  Had Sansa been prepared for the rough world of reality and not the world of songs?  Songs that spoke of ideals and not reality.

For a minute the new King stood in the hall.  His mind racing with memories and thoughts.  Should he have said those words?  Why hadn’t he?  Now his conscious gnawed at him.  Why hadn’t he warned Sansa the need for secrecy?  He would have told this to any non-family member.  Had he been that blind?  He once more started walking down the hall.  The turmoil in his soul only increasing.

Het turned it all over in his mind but it still came back to the fact that Sansa had betrayed him.  Still, Arya had altered Eddard’s soul and id.  He had a much better understanding now of his eldest daughter might have been thinking.  With Robb he had been preparing his first son to one day take the helm of the North as its next Warden.

Arya by her very fiery nature and unwillingness to ‘bend the knee’ to her mother or to him quite actually had prepared herself for the cauldron that was King’s Landing.  Jon he supposed had been formed in the same crucible as Arya.

Eddard stopped again.  He really, really needed to come clean about Jon.  Arya would be furious.  Catelyn would be furious.  Hell, he was furious with himself.  With Robert now dead it seemed silly in a way his long silence on Jon.  Lyanna had been correct of course.  She had sworn him to secrecy.  It made all the sense in the world actually.  Robert had proved his moral blind spot when it came to Targaryen’s at the sack of King’s Landing.

_Why hadn’t he stood up to his friend then_! Is it honorable to think a thought and then not act on it?  He had burned with rage at what had been done to Elia and her children.  That had been a sin against man and the old gods.  _He should have acted_!  He had not.  _What the fuck had been wrong with him_ Eddard now raged at his past self.  If he had acted then the events of the recent past would not have occurred.  Would something better have happened?  Or worse?  Only the fates knew.

With measured steps the new King walked down the hall again.  He had much to think on.  He was realizing that knowing and doing were two vastly different things.

//////////

It was late the next day.  Eddard walked the halls of King’s Landing like a caged Shadowcat.  He paced the halls in a circular pattern that took him up and down the stairs and down the long halls.  He was hemmed in.  He was safe but he knew he was trapped.  He could smuggle himself out as others were smuggling themselves in.  More and more forces that had no love for the Lannisters were coming to his flag.  He had now over four hundred former forces of Rhaegar that had come to him.  He was using these men to leaven the force of the Gold Cloaks. 

These new men gave the forces of the King backbone.  They were training the forces they were part of.  The Gold Cloaks were actually becoming a fighting force.  He had the men training extensively learning to draw and release bows.  Eddard had sent out word to the resident’s that he was looking for archers and would pay good coin for bows and for arrows.

The man smiled.  Many of the bows had been pieces of garbage but enough were of serviceable merit and a few were old gems.  Many had come in saying they were archers that had fought in Robert’s Rebellion.  Eddard never asked which side they fought on.  He had them to demonstrate their skills.  Many could not even string the bows they were given to show their skills with.  Others succeeded.  Finally.  Some had broken fingers and large blood bruises on their forearms with a few broken noises added to the mix.

While the chaff was thick there were indeed kernels to be found.  He had added two hundred eighty men and seven women who seemed to be actually skilled.  Between them and the Gold Cloaks learning the bow he had a sizable force of archers forming.  The new recruits had brought in a sizable number of arrows.  He had put out world he would pay two copper pence for each arrow.  Phirona Ormonnis and Saelalys Narennis had setup a cottage industry of making arrows.  They had selected ten skilled arrow makers and they were busy producing arrows.

A nice stockpile was forming up.  He would use what he had.

He walked down the halls looking right and left.  He did not see the tapestries or displays of wealth or force of arms.  He had much on his mind.  He had foes on the outside of King’s Landing and internal strife with his daughters inside the walls.  The man truly wished he was outside the walls of King’s Landing fighting for his life.  He smirked with a squint smile as he moved further down the hall for yet another round of almost aimless wandering.

He was still trying to process his emotions over Sansa.  He was still extremely angry with his eldest daughter but he felt the anger was more manageable now.  His dialog with Arya had the father thinking.  He sighed.  If he was counseling some other father in this situation he would tell the man to be forgiving.  To understand the motivation of his eldest daughter.  He knew he was being a hypocrite.  He simply could not change his feelings.  Not yet.  It was so easy to counsel but it was so hard to take said counsel.

He was by the door to the room that the youngest Lannister children had setup as their roost.   Matamion and Jaehaegar the two Valyrians from House Velnalys stood guard.  They had nodded to him with each circuit of his walk through the Red Keep.   He thought he would step in and see them.  He found them to be so mature for their age.  How they had not become like their parents or grandfather he had no idea.  They were still decent and well centered.  He found Myrcella especially precocious. 

He turned the handle and entered the room.  Eddard immediately paused in his steps.  Beside the Lannister princess at the table sat Sansa.  They were talking and giggling with smiles on both of their faces.  When Sansa saw her father her face fell and she turned pale.  Eddard again felt the anger flare in his veins.  Seeing Sansa reminded Eddard again that she nearly caused his death.  The King schooled his features taking a deep breath.  Even as he did so he could not forget his eldest daughter would have gotten her father killed if not for the intervention of Arya and her successful Insurrection of House Lannister. 

True Eddard had lead it at the end but he could not have done so if Arya had not started the beginning of the Insurrection.  She had fought in every battle.  She had proven herself a true warrior.

Sansa stood up and trembled.  Myrcella attempted to grab her hand but Sansa was already moving to leave the room.  She took a circular route out of the room to avoid her father.  She opened the door and left.  Eddard heard her sniffles.  He saw the glare from Jaehaegar.  The man did not hide his displeasure with his King.  The door was closed.

Eddard head bowed and he took a deep breath.  He had tried to school his features.  He had not glared at his daughter or spoke cruelly to her.  He had controlled himself well he thought.

He turned to look at the two youngest children of Cersei Lannister.  Tommen was reading a book while a cat lounged on his lap and another cat was swiping at his hand each time Tommen moved his fingers on the book.  Tommen was focused on the book.  Eddard was sure that was deliberate on Tommen’s part.  That could not be said of Myrcella.  She stared at the King with that steady gaze that now unnerved the man.

“I did not bark at her.  I did not tell her to leave” Eddard spoke defensively.  He held his hands up to show his innocence. 

“You did not need to.  Your eyes spoke for you.”

Eddard ground his teeth.  He looked away and walked around the room looking at everything and nothing.  He knew the daughter of Cersei still had more to say.

“I wonder when you will execute Joffrey, Tommen and myself” Myrcella spoke as if she was discussing philosophy. 

Eddard whipped around to glare at the girl.  “I have told you that you are safe!” barked at the child.  Again he took a deep breath to calm his ire.  “I do not hold the child responsible for the sins of the parents.  You are blameless.”

“And yet you cannot forgive your own daughter.  Why should I believe that you can forgive me and my siblings when you cannot forgive your own daughter” was Myrcella rejoinder.  Succinct and to the point.

Still moving around the room, Eddard, pretended to be looking at what his hands touched.  Her words had punctured his soul like long bow arrows.  His soul flinched.

“I forgave your mother.  Anyone else would have put her to the sword.  I spared you all when I was counseled to kill your mother and her progeny.”

“And Sansa?”

Eddard turned to look Myrcella in the eyes.  She did not flinch.

“I don’t know Myrcella.  Sansa hurt me deeply.  I hope I can find it in my heart to forgive her.  That I can work through this.  I would love to see how you would handle such a betrayal.”

Myrcella did not speak.  She merely bowed her head slightly.  She then looked again directly at the man who said he would spare her from death.

“Show me the purity of your words my King.”  With that the girl opened a book and began to pretend to read.

They were at an impasse.  He tipped his head and left the room.  In a strange way, he felt his wounds being lanced.  It hurt like hell but it was necessary.  Sansa was indeed weak in many ways.  She was what his wife had made her.  He grimaced.  He knew he not once intervened for his children with Catelyn except for Arya.  Her resemblance to Lyanna triggering emotions deep in his heart.

No, now Eddard cringed at his past actions.  He had to be honest with himself now.  He must.  Avoidance had been his mantra.  Eddard had to acknowledge that he too had had a major hand in shaping his eldest daughter.

He sighed again.  It was time to pace the halls again.  His agitation only increasing instead of lessening with caged pacing.

///////////

Two days later, Varys opened the door to the chamber that housed the Small Council.  He stepped in.  His gaze as always attracted to the two dragon sphinxes on the back wall.  The two sentinels standing on their pedestals in a half sitting repose.  Their guard vigilant and eternal.  The onyx dark with hidden truths.  The secrets they must have seen the Whisper thought looking at their folded wings with their female bodies and faces.

On the far end of the table was the chair carved with stylized interlocked hands adorning the high chair back.  The ears stylized as dragons in repose.  The stiles carved to represent the limbs and leaves of the mysterious Weirwood trees.  It really was a work of art.

At the other end of the long rectangular table sat Eddard Stark.  His king.  He sat in a chair like the other members of the Small Council.  He had removed the ornate, plush chair that Robert Baratheon had sat in.  The message clear.  I am only a man.  Varys again wondered of this strange man who was now King.  Where was the overweening ego?  Eddard was truly unique.  

Varys snorted to himself.  This man was so much more than any man he had met before.  He had grown mightily since the neophyte that fist walked into this chamber.

Eddard had just cut off his hair again Varys saw.  He wondered why.

“Why the haircut my liege?”

“Varys” Eddard lifted his head from the reports he was reading acknowledging his Hand.  “I did not like the roots.  So I cut it all off.  I want only my natural hair color to show.”

“I see you are still shaving.”

The eunuch watched Eddard move his hand up to touch his face and rub the back of his fingers along his right cheek.

“Yes.  My wife has hinted she would like to see the beard go.  Well it is gone so I am maintaining the smooth look.  Hopefully, Cat will like it.”

The King then held up a few parchment pages from the folder he was reading from.

“So you think that this Dromen Salver will make a good Grand Maester?” the King asked his Hand.

Varys took a deep breath.  “I would hope my—Eddard.  He has a Vaylrian Steel link.  I think that is most advantageous with all these prophecies floating about magic returning.  He is young and vital as per your instruction.  Hopefully, he had not become jaded.”

Eddard shook his head in agreement to the Spider’s words.  “But does he believe truly in magic or merely as an academic?” Eddard asked.

“He would have to have studied with Maester Marwyn.  Only time and familiarity will answer that question Eddard.”

He watched Eddard read some more on the prospective candidate to be the Grand Maester to the King.

“It says he is quite fond of the whores in Oldtown” Eddard sighed “Can’t anyone keep their vows” he carped to himself.

Varys kept his council to himself.  Rare was the man like Eddard Stark.  Of course the fates conspired against others to keep their vows Varys thought with resignation.  The cruelty of life that harmed ones such as himself and Sandor Clegane while still children and helpless. 

“I see he has the black iron link so our ravens will be happy … bronze—hmmmm … astronomy and astrology.  That would support magic I would think … copper—engineering … yellow gold – good at math and economics.  That is something we will need help with the enormous debt Robert left us with.  Pewter and platninum (Eddard looked at another sheet … “what is pewter – ahhhh manufacturing, platinum and silver—hmmmm two links of silver.  Good, good.   Always need a good doctor.  And lastly steel.  Quite accomplished I would say.  ”

The King read a little more but then he looked up and around.  “Where is Sandor?  He knows it is time for our meeting.”

“I fear there was a disturbance down in the kitchen between two of the cooks.  Devolved into a food fight I hear.  He went down to restore order.”

The Hand watched his King blanch.

“Don’t worry Eddard.  I saw him just as he was heading down.  I reminded him not to bite.”  Eddard only looked a little relieved.  He clearly had doubts as to Sandor’s self-control.

“I have something I wish to talk to you of before Sandor comes.”

“Okay Varys.”

“I want to talk about Sansa and you not forgiving her Eddard.  You need to do so.  She is extremely sorry and has learned from her mistake.”

Eddard had lost his perpetual half smile.  He stared down the table at Varys.

“You have basically forgiven the Baratheons.  It is time for you to forgive Sansa.”

“It was you who told me of her betrayal” Eddard spoke with flint in his words.

“Yes I did my liege.  You needed to know.  Plus, you would hear of this eventually.  Better from me at the start.  This prevented any false fronts between you and Sansa.”

“I see” Eddard spoke flatly.  He was looking at Varys with a stone face.  He was betraying none of his thoughts.  “So I should just act like nothing happened then?”

“I did not say that my King.  I merely advise it is time for you to work out your feeling and forgive your sweet daughter.  She has suffered enough with her situation.  First with Cersei and Joffrey and now, alas, you.”  He held his king’s eyes.  The man’s jaw clenched.

To Eddard’s credit Varys thought, he allowed his Hand to speak to him thus. 

The door to the Small Council chamber banged open starting both men.  Sandor barged in wiping his cloak over his face several times before he shoved it behind his shoulders.  He had food stains on his clothes and armor.  There was some mash potatoes in his hair.  He had an exasperated look on his face.  He did a quick scan of the room. 

“Damn women” he muttered.  “One skirmish put down.”

He looked at his King.  He took a deep breath.

“I wish to speak to you directly my King before we begin our meeting.  If I could my liege”

Varys watched the man turn to Sandor.  He was clearly thankful for the diversion.”

“Yes Sandor.  What do you wish to discuss?” Eddard asked the man giving Varys a smug look.

“You need to forgive Sansa my King.”  Sandor looked directly at the King expectantly. 

Varys felt his face take on a feral grin.  Eddard’s face was back to looking most unhappy.

“ _Yesssssss_?!” Eddard grated out.  He looked back at Sandor.

Sandor went on “You see we have the scales of justice.”  Eddard face scrunched.  Varys too wondered where Sandor was going with this.  Sandor held his hands out, palms up and motioned them up and down like scales.  “On one side we have the harridan harpy Cersei Lannister.  On the other we have a sweet red canary—that would be Sansa my King.”

Eddard rolled his eyes.

“You are giving Cersei the Vile fair treatment while you are treating your daughter, the Lovely Songbird wh—“

“Canaries are yellow Sandor” Eddard blandly told Sandor.

The tall scared man looked confused for a moment.  Then his visage cleared.

“Whatever.  You are acting must unseemly—“

SLAM   Eddard stood up so fast Varys had not even seen him rise.  His palms slapped the table hard his body leaned forward.  He glared at Varys and the Hound.  He then stood up and silently left the room.  The temperature had dropped twenty degrees in the room Varys was sure.  The silent egress ended at the door.

Sandor and Varys looked at the door.  A door that had slammed shut with a mighty reverberating bang. The Hound looked at Varys perplexed.

“What is his problem?”

Varys could only sigh.  The hound could be extremely obtuse.

//////////

He was up on the walls of King’s Landing yet again.  His restless energy needed to be released.  It had him walking on the battlements.  His mind filled with swirling thoughts.  He looked back down at the rolling grasslands and small hamlets that surrounded King’s Landing.   A land now filled with Lannisters.

The Lannisters were finishing off their drills and exercises for the day.  The forces seemed to be well maintained with high enough moral.  They knew that reinforcements were coming.  This had been going on for three weeks now. 

A standoff.  In a way they too were caged.  The only difference was that they were on the outside of the bars.  They may be looking into the cage but they had no freedom to leave.  He was on the wall that Lannister waves threatened to crash against and over. 

Eddard had been studying them for these past three weeks.  It was time to stir up the hornet’s nest.


	26. Gathering of Lions and Wolves

**Heirs Apparent**

**Gathering of Lions and Wolves**

 

At a slow trot Jaime rode his horse.  He looked around at the surrounding scrubland.  He and his company was moving between Hayford Castle and Stokeworth.  He spied the waddles of trees and deep gullies that crisscrossed this land.  He was chasing again the forces of Beric Dondarrion.  The forces of the man always seemed to be just beyond the next small hill or corpse of trees.

Jaime cursed softly.  He was terribly frustrated.  He and the Mountain, Gregor Clegane, had at first enjoyed success against the man.  Beric had attempted to fight him directly.  The engagements went badly for the man.  Jaime and his superior forces constantly had their enemy in retreat.  The Lannisters were wearing their enemy down.  Each battle bleeding both sides but Jaime had the superior forces.  This allowed him to absorb losses.  Plus, the superior numbers gave him tactical advantage he used to inflict serious losses on his foe.

Then overnight it seemed like their tactics changed.  They no longer opposed them directly but switched to hit and run attacks.  Now it was ambush with advantage and slip away into the wild country.  One never knew when the attacks would come.  What seemed like a place for ambush foregone only to strike when not expected in a site that did not seem so advantageous.  The surprise of attack made it so.

Beric no longer cared to hold ground.  They easily surrendered cities to them only to retake them when Jaime moved on.  He did not have the numbers to hold what he took.  He had to double back and retake a city for strategic holding of ground and keeping the populace under control.  He was literally running around in circles.  Still, to continue his attacks Jaime would soon have to pull those forces to continue the chase.  The damn tableau replayed itself again and again and all the time suffering attacks.

The attacks were bad enough.  It was the snipping by bowmen that was most disconcerting and will sapping.  A sudden blizzard of arrows or the single arrow taking out a lieutenant or sergeant.  It seemed as if the arrows came from the very Earth.  How these snippers could disappear into the land was beyond Jaime. 

Then he had received another huge shock.  They had been going through a holdfast and the people who had feared them now stood on the side of the road with a knowing look on their faces.  The fear the populace had shown the Lannisters was gone.  His forces had wanted to strike them down but Jaime had stopped them.  Killing the populace only heightened their hatred of the Lannister and made them more likely to assist his enemies.

 _What had changed_ Jaime wondered.  He had to know.

He and his men moved down the lane.  When they were several hundred yards beyond the small holdfast Jaime ordered his men to continue down the lane.  He turned around and alone went to the old men, women and children of the small community.  They still stood solemnly by the side of the road.  Almost as if they were waiting for Jaime.  The thought disturbed the vain elegant man.

Jaime pulled his horse to a stop in front of the silent almost ghoul like people.  The people staring up at him with dark eyes.  Again Jaime felt unease.  “Okay.  Out with it.  I promise not to do anything.”

“You are a Lannister.  Your House is not the honorable lion of your standard.  You rape and kill” a middle age woman told him with sullen anger.

Jaime was shocked to hear his House so put.  What was worse he knew the woman was right.  He remembered the sack of King’s Landing a generation past.  He had had no part of that.  Still he could not deny it.  Now his commanders wanted to again terrorize the local populace.

At first, he had not cared.  But the repressed anger he saw present in the populace’s faces told him they were creating future fighters.  Those under his direct command he reigned in as well as he could.  The ambushes made them restive.  He knew how his father would deal with the populace. 

Still, he was not his father.  A mailed fist if used too often made one inured to it.

Jaime looked down at the woman.  She did not flinch.

“I can only speak for my command.  You will not suffer from my troops.  It is counterproductive.”

“And of compassion?  Of right?”

Jaime could only stare down at her.  Her words roiled his conscious but he would not show it.  Jaime’s unsettled soul writhed more within his armored breast.  His hands wrung the reigns in them.  All these ambushes had put Jaime off his center.  It cracked his self-control.  Memories long repressed had started to once more seep out.

The woman in her early fifties who was obviously the leader looked at the half of the community that had been burned by forces of another Lannister Captain.  She returned her steady gaze to Jaime. 

“I had nothing to do with that.  I give you my word as a Lannister to not bring any harm to you for what you tell me now.”

She merely looked at him.

He felt suddenly soiled for some reason.  “I, Jaime Lannister, promise to you, that I will not do anything against your community with what you tell me.  I can make no stronger oath.”

The woman openly sneered up at Jaime Lannister.  “I repeat.  Your family is known for the murder of innocents.”  She looked around at her ruined community.  “I have heard the story of Elia whom you did not protect.”

“I knew nothing of that!” Jaime shouted down at the woman.  He felt anger and shame flush through him.  He had many things hurled at him but not that.  The memory of Bran Stark came to him.  He calmed down.  These damn ambushes had unsettled Jaime.  “I am no innocent I admit.  I have committed my crimes against man and the gods.  But not this time.  Will you tell me?  I see the change.  What has caused it?”  Now, the woman smiled softly.

“King’s Landing has fallen to the Wolves.  Your sister and lover is taken prisoner as are your children.  Eddard Stark has risen from the dungeons healed of the crime you committed against him.  The Kingsguard have been slaughtered.  The Lions are disposed.  The Wolves ascendant.  A new world order is taking root.  You are dead man walking.   Eddard will kill you like he should have during Robert Rebellion.”

Jaime was shaken to his core.  He remembered back to King’s Landing during its sack by his father.  Eddard had been so self-righteous then.  The man had an air about him that made Jaime hesitate.  He had been thankful to put the Stark down back in that courtyard in King’s Landing.  How this resurrection of Eddard Stark could be disconcerted the Lannister.  It seemed impossible.  He had seen the ruined knee.  This news of the man’s rebirth shocked him. 

He hoped he did not show it but he could not be sure.  He could not afford to show such weakness to the populace if Eddard had arisen like some phoenix reborn.  He rode away not saying anything more or looking back.  He knew she spoke truly.  With Eddard in control of King’s Landing and his sister and her children as hostages everything was totally undone.  He was not sure how to move forward. 

He gripped himself.  He had to move forward.  He would have to win out.  It was imperative.  That was not what had happened.

That had been a week ago.  Something fundamentally had changed.  His enemies were suddenly always one step ahead of him no matter what he tired.  He tried to outflank his enemy.  He tried to taking back trails.  He tried to bull rush charge the enemy where his scouts said they were but were not there when he could bring forces to bear.

It had become terribly frustrating to the Lannister.  It was if the enemy had eyes in the sky constantly watching everything he did.  Dundarrion was now always one step ahead of him.  Over the last two weeks he had ridden into ambushes that nearly decimated a company of men.  They knew exactly where and when to attack to have maximum affect and then they seemed to melt away.  He had found a few of the bastard’s men but he had lost over six or seven men for every man he killed.  He feared the ratios were worse with other forces under the Lannister banner out in the field.

Something else had changed from the start of their successful campaign to purge the land of wolves.  With no warning men were dropping dead out of the saddle with a longbow arrow through the eye or throat.  Usually it was one man but sometimes up to three.  The only known being the direction of the arrow shot.  The point of origin hundreds of yards distant.  He and his men would flush the area from where the shot had to have to have come from.  They never found anyone.

Jaime examined the arrows.  They were extremely long and very well crafted.  The arrows were not shot by some conscript who was merely firing arrows to fire them.  He was sure that the bows firing these arrows were had a very heavy pull weight.  All the fletching were hawk feathers. 

Some new ally had joined Eddard Stark.  Damn!

Again he was riding down a track in the hills that ran to the north and east of King’s Landing.  He saw a flower by the side of the road.  It was red with a blue center.  He had not seen its kind before.  He passed it.  He leaned down and back to keep looking at it.  He gasped feeling air whip by his ear and the whistling that a longbow arrow made.  Jaime glanced up and snarled seeing the arrow streak on into the distance. 

He kicked his horse forward.  His men were reacting pointing at a nearby series of hills and a large stand of woods.  Three days past his men had been near another woods when arrows came shooting out.  Two men fell dead with another severely injured.  There had been more than one man firing that time.  His men rushed in wildly as he yelled at them to stop but the constant ambushes had them filled with the need for revenge.

Seven of the men did come out of those woods alive.  Four were never found.

Jaime stopped his horse ashen face.  If he had not bent to look at that flower … he would be dead.  He shook his head.  At least his men’s discipline had improved.  They had not gone charging into the woods to get feathered.  He led his men on till he came to a large flat expanse of land.  He had learned to not make camp near hills, woods or gullies.  He heard the ravens and crows cawing. 

The damn birds were everywhere now.  The land had become a feast for crows.  Dead bodies of men, horses and stock animals littered the countryside.  He was making camp now.  The sun would set in an hour.  He set his picket lines.  He would have set only one picket line just a month ago but now he set three.  With any less shadows would come into the camp to kill a handful of men with slit throats in their blankets.  It was truly harrowing.

Jaime sat beside the cook fire.  He shared his meals with his men.  The other officers were near their tent.  They always had a little more food and drink.  Jaime said nothing.  Now was not the time to worry about such things.  His men did not talk to him.  He was the son of Tywin Lannister. Why should they?  Were not the Lannisters superior to other men of lesser houses?  His father always going on about how the only thing that mattered was the honor of one’s House.  The person did not matter.

 _What bullshit_! Jaime stormed in his mind.  Sometimes he wanted to punch his father in the face when he spewed that tripe.  Instead he merely stood there while his father pontificated.  _So much for being a hero_ Jaime mused on himself meanly. 

He missed Cersei something fierce.  He should have been there to save her.  He had taken the field never considering that Eddard Stark would rise up to lead an Insurrection.  No, that was not correct.  More rumors had surfaced.  It had been Arya Stark that had lead the Insurrection that freed her father.  He had at first disbelieved what he heard.  Surely a woman could not have done such a thing.  Especially a teenage girl.

He stared off into the night.  He remember his sister being so upset that she was not allowed to take up the sword.  She had been angry at him for not supporting her against their father.  _What the hell was he supposed to do against their father_?  Why couldn’t she just accept her fate like he did?  She was a woman.  They did not do such things.  _Did they_?

Now Eddard had taken the Red Keep.  Now the walls of the city barred him from going to his sister.  He couldn’t go to her anyways.  He had a responsibility to his men even if they felt no love for him.

He wondered about the safety of his sister and the children that though of his body were not his.  He had never been allowed to form a bond with them.  To Jaime, Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen may as well have been strangers from a strange land.  Worse, Jaime realized, he never cared to form a bond with his own children.  Never.  He looked into the flames of the fire.  What did they say of him as a man?  Clearly, he was no father.  Damn these ambushes.  He took a deep breath.  He mused on life and its meanings if any.  He sighed again.  It was too late now.

He missed his sister.  He wanted to make love to her.  She was so fiery and passionate.  She was too driven he knew but he could not help but be attracted by her intensity.  Even after bearing his three children he could not acknowledge as his she was still beautiful to him as when they first lay together. 

His father and sadly Cersei were only focused on power and its acquisition.  He did not share their singular desire for ever more power.

Jaime just wanted to love his sister and live a life with her.  A life where he could acknowledge his children.  A world where he did not have to be at the door guarding it while a fat drunken oaf fucked his sister.

Jaime looked into the flames of the fire before him.  Again.  Too late.

Well, that problem was gone.  Now he only had to worry about that sanctimonious asshole Eddard Stark now on the Iron Throne.  At least the man was so constipated that Jaime seriously doubted the Iron Throne would even prick his iron ass cheeks.  He looked up from the fire and into the darkness surrounding his camp.

The heir of Casterly rock, well except for being part of the Kingsguard, sighed.  He would do his duty.  He knew one thing about Eddard Stark.  He may have a stick up his ass but he would never kill innocents in the Game of Thrones.  Jaime’s children were safe.  He still shivered seeing the broken bodies of Rhaegar’s wife and children in his mind’s eye.  His mind drifted back to Eddard’s father and brother.  He suddenly stood up.

Damn!  He hated fighting the ghosts from a time long past.  He had put them to bed years ago.  Not anymore.  Events were conspiring to raise them from the dead.  The dead of the past haunting the living now.  Damn his father for lack of control on his forces.  He could never show his shock and revulsion.  No one would have cared anyways.

He walked around the campfire.  He would not be sleeping well tonight.

/////////

Branton Lannister of Lannisport looked up at the tall walls of King’s Landing.  He had learned the hard way to always keep his men four hundred yards back from the walls of the city.  Eddard had at least a few archers who were true masters of the longbow.  He had lost twenty men in two days at the beginning of the siege with men constantly getting too close to the walls of King’s Landing wanting to raid the buildings that had been abandoned by the citizenry of King’s Landing that were outside its walls.  The people had fled to the safety inside walls.

There would be no siege at this time.  He did not have the troops.  He was really just a picket line around the city to keep forces from entering the city to bolster Eddard Stark’s forces.  He could stop small numbers but if any army appeared he would be crushed between an anvil and a blacksmiths mallet.  It galled Branton to see ships plying the docks of the Blackwater Rush. 

There was no navy coming to the Wolf’s aid but he had no navy providing a blockade either.  Commerce was freely entering the city.  It was maddening and frustrating.  He thought of burning the buildings outside of the city’s walls but decided not to.  It was a waste of effort.  He had appropriated the buildings in the small communities that had grown up around the Old Gate, Lion Gate. King’s Gate and the Gate of the Gods.  The buildings furthest from the city walls were just outside range of the longbows. 

The Lion and Gate of the Gods gate seemed to attract the most effort from the Stark forces.  He had lost more men at these gates.  He had therefore stationed more forces there.  The buildings did not extend as far away from the gates but the furthest away were also beyond range of the longbow.  Still he had to be wary.  Three times on moonless or dark cloudy nights men had slipped out the gates to attack his men as they patrolled the rolling grasslands before King’s Landing Walls.  Their nearest bivouac areas were also marauded.  

The losses had been few and they had killed some of the attackers but the attacks were unnerving.  The trapped wolf was not willing to stay in his den.  He came out in the darkest hours to try and savage the lions surrounding him and his pack mates.  He had pulled his forces further back and dug deep trenches and placed lines of angled stakes in the ground to deter further attacks.  His tactics seemed successful with the attacks ceasing.

He had not lost many men but it had rattled his men the audacity of the attacks.  He increased his patrols on these gates.  The Lion Gate made sense to Branton Lannister.  It was symbolic of Casterly Rock and the Lannisters.  It was the terminus of the Gold Road from Lannnisport.  It made sense to keep the area around that gate in doubt.  He had pulled his forces back from this gate and the symbolic Gate of the Gods an extra two hundred yards.  He did not need to test his enemies.

He simply did not have the forces necessary to take the fight to Eddard.  He was merely a blocking force.  He could not withstand any army marching to free Eddard Stark.  The ravens were flying thick in the sky between the Major Houses and from there to their vassal lords.  Once in the field, one lost touch with what was truly happening on the strategic level.  This was happening now.  Branton could only worry about the tactical picture.  His world had become myopic.  All that existed was him and Eddard Stark and their personal conflict.

He could keep Eddard Stark trapped in the Red Keep but that was all. 

While his personal world and responsibility was the Red Keep word of the outside world came to him in fit and starts from fast horse courier and a few Lannister ravens.  He was given a brief insight on the campaigns engaged around him.  The picture they provide was unsettling.

Runners had gotten through to him with a picture of how bad it was getting.  The Riverlands had risen into a footing of war.  They were making threats to the eastern castles and towns of the Westerlands.  Now reports were coming in that they were now blocking the Gold Road.  They were only a nuisance at the moment but as they mobilized more they would most probably cut the road completely if not directly challenged.  With that blockage Branton would be starved out.  He would have to live off the land and that would quickly exhaust what he could find.

The North was mobilizing and would march when they had formed and trained up.  That would take at least six weeks more but they were coming.  Lysa Tully had sent out word she would stay neutral in this fight.  Unfortunately, some of the stronger houses of the Vale were defying her edict and were taking to the field to put down the unholy Lannisters for their murder and incest as they had stated in their own scrolls answering Eddard’s need.

Branton Lannister grimaced.  All knew of the incestuous relationship between the twins.  Everyone except their father Tywin.  Branton shook his head.  How could such a scheming and manipulative man fail to see what was so brazenly done beneath his nose.  By the gods just look at the kids.  He did not need to reference the book that Eddard Stark had referenced in his scrolls to see the truth.

Word had arrived with the last forces to arrive at King’s Landing that Tywin was hurriedly mobilizing the full strength of the Westerlands.  The old lion was anxious to take the field and meet his enemies.  His large army was forming.  Columns would march both into the Riverlands and Crownlands.  That would force the armies of their enemies to take them into account while the main force of Casterly Rock came down the Gold Road to King’s Landing.

Unfortunately, the other major houses of Westeros were also preparing or already taking to the field.

The Vale forces had made it clear they would help the Riverlands to cut the Gold Road.  They had not come to bear but they would within a few weeks.  Their forces would not be great but they did not need to be to harass and make the Gold Road a very dangerous place to be if one was aligned with House Lannister.

Highgarden was of course playing the coquettish whore.  They would come to King’s Landing but refrain from direct action.  They would wait and see who would give them the most to curry their favor.  He knew what Eddard could offer.  He seriously doubted that Olenna would turn aside from that juicy offer.  He would wait and see what Renly could accomplish with his lover Loras Tyrell.

Dorne would also stay neutral but send a force to King’s Landing to “see what will happen”.  Branton was not worried about Dorne.  They tended to be neutral or at best give tepid support.  They would not be part of this tableau.

What was worrying Branton the most was the rising up of the Storm and Crownlands.  They had become quite restive.  After Robert’s rebellion the Crownlands had withdrawn from the field of battle and the field of politics.  They had lost their will to engage in the ethos of Westeros.  The Stormlands had become quiescent with the slothful dissipation of Robert Baratheon.  The houses of his Constituency had also ignored the politics of state by and large for the last ten years.

This was changing rapidly.  They were rising up.  Eddard Stark had awaken the sleeping giant as the old saying went.  The Lords were rapidly rousing from their somnolence.  The Houses were rousing to anger.  Wrath that was being aimed at the Lannister’s. 

The Stag was aligning with the Direwolf.  He was furious with the Lions of House Lannister.  The house of Kellington had ridden up to the force blocking the Dragon Gate.  This gate the furthest from his command tent and staff.  They came under the flag of parlay.  They had inquired what the Lannisters were doing blocking the gate.  They had been answered that they were putting down the unlawful Insurrection of Eddard Stark against the rightful heir of Robert Baratheon.  Joffrey Baratheon.

The men had been asked if they had come to join the blockade.  The men had thrown down the flag of parlay and shouted that the true King of Westeros was Eddard Stark and that Joffrey Baratheon was a child of incest and bastardy.  They had fallen on the company of Lannister men. 

Fortunately, the Lannister Lieutenant had sensed the nefarious intent of the men from House Kellington.  The ambush had not been a total shock.  They had suffered severe losses but they had given a good account of themselves.  They had killed twenty of the traitors and wounded more.  He had lost thirty-two men with another thirty-four wounded.  He had to move a company from his reserve to reconstitute the force.

He had put out word that any approaching force that would not lay down arms when approaching would be treated as the enemy.

All this mounting opposition was sapping the strength of the Lannisters.  A reinforcement troop had arrived from the Golden Road.  The problem was that it was supposed to be five thousand men.  It had only been twenty-two hundred men.  They had had to fight through blockades.  To keep the road open forces had to be left behind to garrison forts being erected.  There had been harassing attacks in the Riverlands. 

There had also been the incessant sniping of arrows fletched with hawk feathers.  His own force had suffered under this assault that one never knew when it would strike and seemed to evaporate like the morning mist.  Now it seemed that the Tully forces were working in league with these mysterious archers.  The troop coming down to reinforce Branton had met a strong blocking force on the Gold Road at a place that had low riding hills on each side with woods coming to within a hundred yards on each side of the road.

The Captain in charge had not thought much on it arraying his forces to break the blockade.  It had been late in the day when they had come upon the blockade.  It had been hastily erected but heavily manned.  The two forces had fired arrows at each other and the captain had launched a mounted assault that had been repelled.  The Sergeant leading the assault thought he had weakened the force sufficiently that the next assault would sweep it aside.

The sun was near the horizon and they had decided to make camp and await the sunlight in the morning to breakthrough.  The sun had set.  That was when the arrows started to whistle in from the woods on each side of the Gold Road.  Throughout the night at random intervals arrows would come into the camp.  The woods were too close to avoid being shot at.  A charge was mounted at an area that seemed many of the shots had come from. 

The arrows went from intermediate to a fast flight of buzzing death.  The accuracy of these archers was almost supernatural.  Fortunately, good tempered Lannister steel had saved many men from death.  The men’s charge had reached the woods but no one was there in front of them.  Instead arrows whistled in from their flanks.  The enemy archers were never seen.

The next morning the Lannister’s discovered that the blockade had been abandon.  It all had been setup to let the archers be in range for a full night of snipping at the Lannnisters.  Thirty-seven men had been killed.  It was sapping to moral these asymmetrical fights.

Branton took the men that did arrive to supplement his forces.  He felt an uneasy feeling.  He had thought he would ride into King’s Landing.  Instead it was like a mountain range trapping his forces in place.

The man sighed.  He could only do his duty.

//////////

“I am telling you yet again Catelyn Stark that I am innocent.  I had no reason to kill your son.  I did not try to have him assassinated.”  Tyrion spoke to the stiff back of the infernal woman.  They had survived the attack of the mountain clan.  Barely.  They were on their way back from the Eyrie.  Their Tyrion had learned that the only woman crazier than Catelyn was her damn sister Lysa.  Catelyn was a bitch but Lysa was daft!

Bronn eyed him speculatively.  Tyrion had hope he could get the sellsword to again aid his cause.  Men like him were always enamored with and by money.  If there was one thing that Tyrion had access to were gold crowns.  His father may hate him but he was still a Lannister.  In the end his dear old father would save his life.

They were just starting to descend down the High Road that lead them away from the Eyrie.  He had heard of the moon door.  His personal experience had lived up to its sickening hype.  He had been very afraid he might indeed prove dwarves could not fly.  He was pretty sure they could not.  _Damn the damn Tully sisters_!  Thank the seven gods for Bronn stumbling into his life.

The infernal woman ignored him.  His reasoning fell on deaf ears.  His sardonic insights were met with indifference.  His outright insults only inciting a glaring silence in return.  He needed her to respond to his jibs so he could vent damnit!  _Damn the infernal woman_!

He was on the High Road and felt his doom closing in on him.  Catelyn had outsmarted him and that had really pissed him off.  He had been sure he was going to Winterfell but she had fooled him.  She had taken him to the Eyrie and counted himself fortunate to have survived.  _No thanks to Catelyn Stark_!

The small force moved slowly down the road conserving their horses’ strength.  Suddenly five figures were on the road before them.  They seemed to have just materialized from the morning mist.  They had long cloaks that ran to the ground.  They blocked the way.

Catelyn had moved forward to tell the men that she was taking Tyrion to Winterfell for justice.  That it was too dangerous to attempt passage to King’s Landing.

“No you are not.  You will be in our care from now on.  We will be taking you to forces that will take you to King’s Landing and the King.”

Tyrion had felt a big grin come on his face.  Surely by now his brother and father had taken King’s Landing.  Sure Joffrey might be on the Iron Throne but his father would keep the little shit in line.

“Eddard Stark now sits on the Iron Throne.”

Tyrion’s smile turned upside down into a frown.  _Damnit_! 

Catelyn had been shocked and then happy at the news.  Tyrion offered Bronn a huge pouch of money to save him.

“Not likely dwarf.  I want to live to see the sun rise tomorrow.”  Bronn pointed up at the rocks above them.  On both sides of the road stood more of the robed figures.  In their hands were longbows loosely held but ready for instant use.  Tyrion sagged down defeated.

They were led off the High Road and into the wooded mountains.  To distract himself from his plight Tyrion observed nature around him.  High above them, Tyrion saw hawks flying the thermals.  A few times he heard their high pitched screams.  The trees clinging to the sides of the mountains with tenacious focus.  He saw several woodchucks looking at the party as they passed them while they looked out from underneath brambles.  Tyrion saw some mountains goats running up impossible trails on the mountain sides.

They travelled for the full day moving deeper into the thick woods and walking through high mountain glades.  The beauty of the scenery would have touched Tyrion’s soul if he was not so depressed and outright pissed off.

Towards evening they came to the entrance to a cave that was hidden by a monstrous thicket of twisted trees from the wind moving down the narrow valley they had travelled through the last half hour.  There had been brambles interwoven in the twisted trees.  They followed narrow animal paths that had a convoluted path through the twisted maze of thorns and vines.

They walked their horses into the narrow cave entrance that seemed to magically appear out of the twisted maze of trees.  The entrance lite by torches.  The strangers had walked and did not tire on the long trek.  The passage opened into huge caverns that were well light with several large fires.  The cave was warm.  He was told that there were hot thermals underneath the caves that heated up the stone and air.  Vents in the ceiling took away the little smoke produced by the fires.

They were taken to small side rooms to wash and clean themselves.  They were shown bedrooms for their stay here.  They were then taken out to a large communal area that had long oaken tables piled high with roasted sheep and goat.  Tyrion saw a large fatted ox that had been spitted.  There were large bowls full of grains, nuts and vegetables.  The dwarf observed large loaves of bread and wheels of cheese. 

The gathering sat down to eat from the bounty being offered.  Everyone ate heartily.  Tyrion observed the folk that had accosted them.  They seem to speak an archaic form of the language of Westeros.  The words old and hoary and accent strange sounding.  Now the meal was finished.

A middle age woman stood up and said she was Samaya leader of this Druid community.  Tyrion could see that Catelyn had a blank look on her face as did everyone else.  Tyrion had read of rumors of these people from the Age of Heroes.  They had supposedly met the same fate as the Children of the Forest.

They were told that they had aligned themselves with the young wolf of prophecy.  One Arya Stark.  Tyrion enjoyed seeing Catelyn Stark looking constipated at that.  Tyrion had observed the rancor between the young girl and their mother.  Tyrion’s party were told of events in King’s Landing.  How Arya Stark had saved her father and the Druid’s greatest healer had healed his shattered leg.  Tyrion was actually happy to hear that.  He hoped he would have the opportunity to deal the man.  He seemed fair and compassionate.  _Unlike his harpy wife_!

With Eddard Stark on the throne he had a decent chance of survival.  Tyrion sprang up.  “I am Tyrion Lannister.  I have been falsely accused of a crime I did not commit.”

He was asked what it was and he told them while Catelyn fumed silently.

“We have heard of you Tyrion.  We have been watching the Lions and Direwolves closely for several generations.  Our old seerers and the prophets of our sacred brethren have seen this as a time of confusion, destruction and death.  But, also, a time of possibilities.”

“The Lions are ascendant but there has been hope that the Direwolf could somehow prevail.  That has come to pass.  Now we must endeavor to make the possible become reality.  The Direwolf and Dragon will lie together.”

Tyrion smirked at Catelyn Stark’s confused look.  Of course the woman was so literal she could not work through the hyperbole and obfuscation that prophecies cloaked themselves in.  He could not stop his smile. Someone, probably Robb Stark, would be shagging one Daenerys Targaryen if his memory held him in good stead.   Which it always did.

The middle aged woman made direct eye contact with Tyrion.  “Word of you has spread among our communities.”

Tyrion felt his chest swell with pride.  These people seemed most enlightened and sage.  He was anxious to hear what they had been able to perceive of his august personage.  He was sure they had been most impressed by what they had observed.

“We have heard of your love of lying.  Your love of whoring.  Your love of cheating.  Your love of whoring.  Your willingness to defy your father.  Your love of whoring.  Your love of gross exaggerations of your accomplishments.  Your love of whoring.”  Bronn was now snickering and Catelyn looked most satisfied.  Tyrion was motioning for the woman to shut up.  She must not have seen his desperate gestures and continued with her litany of observations.  “Your love of embezzlement.  Your love of whoring.  Your love drunken revelry.  Your love of whoring.  Your love of gluttony.  Your love of wh—“

“Okay, Okay already!  I get it that you know of my minor offenses!”

That received a cocked eyebrow.  The woman looked down at Tyrion with earnest focus.

“Why do you cheat at all things you do” the leader of the Druids asked Tyrion.  “You are most creative and intelligent.  Yet you cheat at cards, dice, betting, games of numbers, all forms of card games, memory games, Crevasse—“

“I don’t cheat at Crevasse!” the dwarf barked out stridently.  Tyrion then slapped himself on the forehead.  He had just admitted the truth of his cheating at everything else.

Samaya looked down on the man.  “You are quite randy my small man.  We call you the pint sized pony.”

This had Tyrion puffing out chest.  Then a look of calculation crossed his face.  _Did she just insult me_?!

Catelyn jumped in with her windbag thoughts and crowed like the sharp beaked crow she was.  She was sure that the listings of Tyrion’s lacking character traits proved her charges against Tyrion.  She again listed Tyrion’s supposed crimes against her House and his general lack of character.  That his House was full of miscreants and incest.  The last Tyrion couldn’t argue.

Tyrion glared at the bitch who was happy to cast aspersions on his person.  The dwarf glared at the woman who looked more and more like the harpies of mythology to him.

Samaya looked down at Tyrion and then over at Catelyn. 

“This man is many things.  Most of them vile and reprehensible.”

 _Hey_!  Tyrion was feeling must set upon.

“But there is no murder in this man’s heart.  Robb will soon be on his way south.  There are houses in Vale that are aligning with Eddard Stark.  We will meet with them.  We will shield and protect you while in our lands.”

Catelyn fumed and clearly wanted to argue.

“Catelyn Stark.  We have long watched you and your family as we have waited and hoped.  The portents told us sixty years ago the time of Hope was coming.  A time when the Starks would make atonement.  That the Starks would bring back magic and restore what the Starks took away in the Age of Heroes.  Still the forces of chaos are strong and we feared that our hopes would prove for naught.”

“The prophecy spoke of a strong Direwolf that was supreme above all others.  That this alpha male would sire a female pup that would tame the fierce Dragon.  We had watched and then Eddard was born.  It was clear he was the Direwolf prophesized.   We felt great hope the prophecy would be fulfilled with your husband and your young female wolf you sired with Eddard Stark.”

“We knew of their great danger but we could not offer help unless Eddard survived his trial of fate.  Almost he died but Arya Stark rescued him.  Eddard Stark had to be tempered in the crucible of deceit and betrayal.  He had to be hardened to become the leader he now is.  Your daughter, Arya Stark, had to have her course bent away from the god of death.  This has now happened.  We are jubilant with what is now possible.  Together they can grip the throat of the fates and achieve greatness.”

Catelyn looked at the Druid as did Tyrion.  Neither were given to believing in hearsay and prophecies.  They were all spoken in such a way that anyone could believe in their prophecies if you only bent the words a little to what you wanted to believe.

Tyrion had an open mind.  He had no problem believing that Arya could be a portent of mighty change.  He saw that Catelyn Stark had no such thought.  Her hellion daughter could not possibly be a portent of some prophecy was clearly written on the woman’s face.  Catelyn Stark was traditional in her thinking in all things.  Especially when it came to women and their place in it.  Tyrion had observed the battleax in action in Winterfell.

Sansa she cowed and Arya Stark she enraged.  Robb just accepted it.  Jon Snow had run away to the Wall.

“Your daughter, Arya Stark is the fulfillment.  So is your husband.  In watching them we have been watching you.”

“Before you seek this man’s harm look into your own heart.  We have observed your treatment of Jon Snow though we call him by another name.  Your treatment of this innocent boy was most vile.  Your treatment of your daughters little better.  While with us you will leave Tyrion Lannister in peace.”

//////////

The sounds of retching filled the royal tent.  The man bent over the pail.  His body contacting with each heave.  His long golden hair flagged down around his face.  The man lifted an arm to wipe away the bile and snot from his face and nose.  He sat back and looked at the dark red fabric of his tent with bloodshot eyes.

Death had come looking again for Jaime Lannister.  The first time it had been but a whisper by his ear.  This time it had come upon him like a battering ram.  This time death came with an explosion of sound and pain.

He looked around with shrouded eyes.  The thought kept coming back to Jaime.  I should be dead.  Twice but by chance he would be in the ground rotting.  He knew he was not an immortal.  He knew he would one day die.  But it was always in the future.  Far in the future.

He no longer had that assurance.  He now felt he might die at any moment.  That twice now he had cheated the hand of death.

The first time a simple flower had saved his life.  The last time four days ago it had been the sudden thought to speak to a captain who was riding into camp behind him.  He had had a sudden thought and with the need to make his point turned suddenly to speak to the man.

Jaime and the man were riding back into the camp they had made for the last three days beside a winding creek that was nearly twenty feet across and lined thickly with drooping willow trees and thick reeds and tall wild grasses on its banks.  There was a bridge at this place that allowed the Lannister’s to cover both sides of the creek and easily move back and forth.

The water cooled the air slightly and the trees provided shadow from the sun.  The water had thick grass growing along its banks for the horses to eat while resting.

They had been camped at the site for days and it had become a safe haven.  Still Jaime wore his helm all the time now and ordered his commanders to as well.  The snipers were definitely shooting at those of rank.  Most of the officers had their helms off with the sun going down and back in camp.

Thank the seven faced god Jaime thought.  He had kept his on.  He was not sure now why he had not yet removed it.  He turned to shout at the captain when his world exploded in pain and sound.  A long bow arrow shot at close range hit his helm.  Strong forged Lannister steel had resisted the arrow.  The curvature of his helm at his temple helped.  The arrow had indented the tempered steel before whisking off the curved metal.

Still, the arrow’s speed and force at such close range had struck Jaime Lannister with force of blacksmith’s forge hammer striking the anvil beneath it.  The reverberating force of the arrow flung Jaime from his saddle to the ground with a resounding thud.  The man knocked unconscious.

In the middle of the night Jaime Lannister came too.  He was woozy and his stomach felt roiled.  He tried to sit up normally and promptly threw up violently.  He made a mess of himself.  He quickly discovered he had to move slowly to keep his equilibrium and to keep from throwing up.

He made another horrifying discovering.  He had no short term memory.  He asked for a report on what happened.  He got pissed when he was not given the report.  He kept asking for it again and again.  The men looking at him strangely.  He finally came to understand he was forgetting immediately what he had been told.  He picked up a parchment and read it.  The instant his eyes lifted all memory of what he read was gone.

He sat on his field bed the rest of the night.  His stomach randomly getting violently upset and Jaime throwing up.  The Lannister’s balance touch and go.  He kept reading the parchment but all memory of it disappeared the instant he finished reading it.

Jaime understood that if this continued he was useless.  He would be locked away in some forgotten room in Casterly Rock.  A living ghost to be forgotten.

Thankfully, his loss of near term memory had disappeared three hours after sunrise the next day.  He picked up the parchment to read and he remembered it.  A rush of relief flooded the blond man’s soul.

Unfortunately, he quickly discovered his body was weak and prone to vertigo which produced violent bouts of throwing up.  That was what had happened a few minutes ago.  He went to get up like normal and vertigo set in and had the heir to Casterly Rock vomiting his guts up it felt like.  He was weak from the lack of solid sustenance the last three days.  Only in the last six hours could he keep anything down.

Still his condition was improving.  He could rise and move about slowly now.  His thoughts had been scattered but he could focus and hold onto his thoughts again.

Thoughts that the vain man found troubling.  He kept thinking.  If I had delayed the moving of my head an instant or the archers fired a moment earlier I would be dead.  That was a horrifying thought.  Jaime knew he was not immortal but his death had seemed like an eternity away.  Something he need not think on or fear. 

That myth had been shattered.  He could not get over the closeness of those arrows piercing his eye and brain.

He tried to think that fate was on his side.  It had been the mistresses working their threads saving him.  He knew that was bullshit.  It had been chance that had saved Jaime Lannister.  Nothing more.  He feared to tempt the fates again. 

He moved slowly around his tent.  It had been four days since the arrow strike had concussed him.  He had asked the next late afternoon once his wits had recovered somewhat if they had killed the archer.  The answer had been no.  Even though the willow lined creek was surrounded on both side by the forces of House Lannister the archer had escaped. 

The late evening light had allowed the shot to go mostly unnoticed.  By the time enough men understood what had just occurred it was evidently too late.  The assailant had somehow disappeared despite the heavy flush of troops that thrashed the willows and splashed and swam in the creek.

Somehow it seemed appropriate to Jaime.  The arrow had partially penetrated his helm before it ricocheted off.  Jaime looked out his tent.  Death had reached out for him.  Death was greedy it seemed.  Would he try again?  Long buried memories had resurfaced.  Memories he had worked hard to bury deep in the recesses of his mind.

He squirmed remembering the shattered bodies of Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon.  He had acted like it was nothing to him at the time.  He had just killed their grandfather.  That man had deserved his gutting on Jaime’s blade.  Not so that gentle woman and her young children.  He started to pace slowly in his tent.  He secretly knew his father had been pleased that the Mountain had removed a problem. 

Jaime remembered how Eddard had seethed.  He saw the man.  He had shaken with anger his face red with rage.  He raged at his longtime friend.  It was clear to the Lannister that Eddard almost fell upon his brother in arms.  Jaime while trouble had felt little of that august rage.  Why had Eddard felt so much and he felt so little?  Jaime worried on that thought now.

Bran’s face came to him. The shocked look on the boy’s face as he fell.  Cersei had stormed at him.  He took care of the problem he thought.  He thought Cersei would claw his eyes out in that broken tower.  She kept screaming at him she meant for them to talk to the boy.  They could have convinced him to be quiet.  Her passion shocked him at the time.  _Why in the hell hadn’t she said that_!  She just kept harping on that the boy had seen them.  It had seem like the thing to do then.  Now he squirmed.  Another thing had begun to tear at Jaime’s thoughts.

Now he wandered why he had felt nothing.  No passion.  No anger.  No concern.  Only emptiness.

Jaime had thought her silly then.  Now with death’s talons raking over Jaime’s body he wondered.  Why did he feel so little for everyone but Cersei?

His own children meant nothing to him.  He went to look back out his tent flap.  The sky glooming.  He felt nothing.  He had a sudden insight.  Even his love for Cersei was shallow.  It had no depth.  Jaime felt nothing so much of the time.  He looked within himself.  He felt nothing now.  Would he ever feel a true depth of feeling?  He felt his stomach roiled again.

A coldness filled the heart of the scion of House Lannister.  His face had become paler.  A paleness that had nothing to do with his physical impairment.  Many thoughts roiled in his mind but one was paramount. 

 _What have I become_?

/////////

Those gathered around the table studied the map of King’s Landing and the immediate surroundings.  They talked amongst themselves going over the proposed plans and the tactics to use.  They had been discussing this for the last week.  The dark of the moon would be tomorrow night.  That would be the time to strike when the light was the least.

Eddard looked around at his War Council.  He had the four personal honor guard that he had promoted with the official title of general at the table. 

Javer Goodbrook, Styve Grandison, Matamion and Jaehaegar Velnalys who had been part of Rhaegar’s honor guard.  They had been with Arya from near the start of her Insurrection and had been invaluable to Eddard Stark since.  They had proven sharp of mind when it came to military thought and tactics.  They were proving to be honor personified.  They had pledged themselves to Eddard Stark. 

With him around the table was his daughter, Arya Stark, and her mentor Syrio Forel.  To round out his War Council, Eddard had added Sandor Clegane.  Varys was in the room as well.

Eddard could not refuse the opportunity.

“What do you think of our tactics Sandor?  Any insights to add?”

“What the bloody hell do you expect me to say?  Just point me in the right direction and let me do what I do best.”  The tall scared man patted the pummel of his sword with his sour face firmly in place.

Matamion spoke up “I wish we had more of the Druids.  Their archery is most beneficial for what we propose.”

“I agree” Eddard spoke.  “Fortunately, three more have come in this week.  It seems that they will cycle in some of their numbers to support Merrel’s home base.  I feared they had done what their duty required.  It appears they have more fealty to give.  We now have eight Druids to add to our cause.  We will have them strategically placed to do the most damage.”

“Javer.  Are the horses ready?”

“Yes.  They have been fed, groomed and their care well-tended too.  They have been exercised and we have a troop of one hundred knights and mounted cavalry.  Sandor will lead that element.”  Eddard saw the grim determined look in the Hound’s eyes.  The man would be waging war on his own House.  No truer test of loyalty could be devised.  Sandor Celgane was fully committed to House Stark.  Eddard felt lucky to have the man’s might at his side.

“We can now field roughly three hundred men on foot that are worth their weight.  I have maybe two hundred gold cloaks who I trust to both not break in battle and to be true.  Your wise rule is slowly bringing those men over to our cause.  They too are finding themselves enticed by the thought of serving someone truly worthy of service.”

Eddard blushed.  Varys snorted while Sandor rolled his eyes at their King’s bashfulness.

“Making sure their pay is not stolen and feeding them well and giving them clean and maintained bedding is making them into believers my liege” Javer added.

Eddard squint grimaced.  He still hated any such title but he knew he had to get used to it.

“Arya.  Your idea about using our training bowmen was brilliant.  We can use their still basic skills to hopefully do some additional damage to the Lannisters” Eddard told his daughter.

The father liked how his daughter’s shoulders squared at the praise.  It was deserved.  When he had proposed to leave Arya behind he had been met with her stony silence.  Syrio had chastised him severely later.  Eddard had to remember that if his daughter was to become a warrior then she needed to be treated like one.  Eddard had sighed.  Syrio was right.  She was to become a Water Dancer.  She had to be treated as such.

He had called Arya to him that night and apologized to her for his thoughts and actions.  He made it clear to Arya that she had more than proved herself to him.  She had not once shrunk from battle.  She had passed each battle with showing only bravery and increasing skill and determination.  His daughters smile and warm embrace had touched Eddard’s heart.

Now Eddard looked around the table.  “It is time that our wolf pack to show the lion pride what happens when you invade its territory.  Tomorrow night let us hamstring and savage our enemy!”

The men around the table shouted their agreement.  Even Sandor Clegane pounded his fist on the table.  For the first time he truly felt he belonged.


End file.
